


Castle of Glass

by balfey



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Agatha Christie Meets Lucy Foley, Claire Beauchamp - Freeform, F/M, Get a hot chocolate and sit back folks, I promise, Jamie Fraser - Freeform, Modern AU, Mystery, Original Characters - Freeform, Outlander - Freeform, jamie x claire, nothing scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balfey/pseuds/balfey
Summary: When Claire Beauchamp goes on a little getaway in Scotland with her fiancé and his obnoxious group of friends; she is presented with a past she has been desperately trying to escape. There is something peculiar about the place around her and the mysterious estate manager whose face is too familiar to only be a coincidence.In the space of a weekend, relationships crumble and secrets unravel.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Claire Beauchamp/Original Character(s)
Comments: 980
Kudos: 479





	1. The Island Behind The Fog

**Author's Note:**

> I thought was is more perfect for the gloomy days of October than a little thriller? I blame this on all the Agatha Christie and Lucy Foley I've been reading lately and the massive inspiration their stories were for this fic. 
> 
> I'm really excited to finally share this story with you. It's different than anything I've ever written and I'm very proud of it. I'd love to know what you think and to see if you'll pick up the clues along the way...
> 
> Enjoy <3

The air was damp and muggy. Heavy with the smell of saltwater. The sky was an immaculate white, with too many clouds and a blinding light emanating from it. Looking at it was like looking directly into a lightbulb; and for Claire’s delicate golden irises, it wouldn’t be sustainable in the long run. 

Quickly, she brought her glance away from the sky and rubbed her eyes, trying to ignore the black dots in front of them from the light. Adjusting her glasses, she continued looking at the sights around her. The only place she had ever known in Scotland was Edinburgh — where she spent a few years roaming its streets and university halls — but that was about it. She knew the concrete, the pubs, the shops, Arthur’s Seat, and other various green expanses. The other side of the country, though, was foreign to her. The wilderness. The Highlands. The place where nature did whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted it. 

— _that place, she had no idea about._ There was a certain feeling of apprehension clinging inside her ribcage. It was meant to be sunny this weekend, she had checked the forecast a few times before leaving Oxford; then again when they landed in Edinburgh. Then again, on the train to Orkney; and then again, before getting onto the boat. 

She’d be lying if she only blamed the weather for her mood. She was mostly nervous for the weekend itself. Nervous to be enclosed in such close quarters with people she barely knew. People who, for the past two years, had never bothered to make her feel even slightly welcomed. 

_A sassenach_ , they had called her once or twice. 

They being her fiancé’s group of friends. 

None of them had meant any harm by the comment; quite the contrary, they assured her. They had received her into their tightly bonded group, teasing her about being the first woman Lennox had ever introduced to them. She often wondered, what they would think of the engagement? They had been together for almost two years; surely, it was a reasonable time. Not that it was any of their concerns, she reminded herself. They both wanted this. 

— that was all that mattered. 

Claire often felt like she didn’t belong with the group. She felt like a voyeur, watching them all talk and laugh about their school years; sharing inside jokes and anecdotes she did not understand. Things she couldn’t understand, no matter how many times Lennox had explained some of them to her. Each time, she would nod and smile at him, maybe letting a calculated little laugh escape her lips to pretend she understood what the hell they were talking about. But she never did. 

When Lennox proposed, they had agreed to take a little trip to Scotland to celebrate. Only the two of them. 

_“We could go to Orkney? What do ye think?” he asked, drawing patterns onto her bareback with his index finger._  
  
L _ennox, the handsome publicist who had told her upon their first meeting that commitment was not for him. That he was too free-spirited for it — she had shared the sentiment at the time._

_Lennox, the man she thought would be fun to have a one night stand with (it had been), was now the same man who had opened a little velvet box, containing a huge diamond ring, in front of the fireplace and asked her to marry him._

_She had said yes. Looking at the rock on her finger now, she was still wondering if she meant it... it was normal, wasn’t it? She was still slightly shocked at the proposal. Neither of them were really prone to weddings, they had discussed this multiple times over the years._

_Guess people change._

_“Why Orkney?” Claire looked up at him, feeling the warmth of the fireplace glowing against her bare skin._

_“You will be married to a Scotsman, it’s time ye visit the country a bit more,” he kissed the tip of her nose, smiling — his half-crooked smile of his she loved so much._

_“I reckon, yes,” she couldn’t help but grin, thrilled at the idea of a romantic getaway together._

_“Orkney it is, then.”_

_“I always wanted to visit their library, too,” she added, shifting onto her side._

_“Of course ye did,” he kissed her again, pulling her close. His accent wasn’t as thick as it used to be, tamed by a few years of living in England. His words carried the same effect. But sometimes, the way he spoke a word or a sentence brought out the Scot in full force. It was charming, all right._

What Lennox had failed to mention that night was that the little romantic getaway was actually about to become a friends’ trip, on one of the smallest islands around Orkney. 

— she didn’t mind, not really. Or maybe just a _tad_. 

— she _couldn’t_ mind. 

He was way too excited to spend this time, not only with her but also with his best friends. To celebrate and spend a joyful weekend altogether. 

_“It would be a good occasion for you to really get to know them, Claire.”_

He wasn’t completely wrong. She simply wasn’t too sure she cared to know them. To his friends, she’d never be more than Len’s girl. Sharing a meal or drinks with the group was one thing. Inviting them to the house for rugby night (a tradition for the boys) or seeing them at various professional parties thrown by Lennox and his firm, too, but a whole weekend? Confined to an island? That was something else. 

Lennox did not ask her to invite her own friends. Not even a hint of an invitation. Nothing. She was starting to regret not doing so without consulting him. After all, the estate was meant to be big enough. 

— at least they wouldn’t have to suffer through a storm. 

_Or so she thought._

She silently cursed her phone’s weather app as the rain started to fall; a claustrophobic mist bringing out the frizz in her carefully straightened hair. To top it all off, the little boat bringing them to the estate was anything but still. Clashing against waves, holding its own against the groaning sea. Water clung to her trousers, getting into her boots and carrying the horrendous smell of dead fish to her nostrils. She wasn’t one prone to seasickness, but she wasn’t too sure she’d be able to hold everything down for much longer. 

Lennox was sitting next to her, enjoying himself more than she was. His jet black hair brushed back by the wind, a tiny streak of silver coming through the front. His eyes were just as dark — so dark, that one didn’t know where his pupil ended and his iris began. Raven-like, focused on the horizon; though it was hidden by a thick fog. 

His hand squeezed hers when he turned his face to look at her, his smile gentle, “All right there, _poppy_?” 

“Bit cold,” she answered, one eye half-closed because of the wind. She was sure her Barbour jacket and heavy turtleneck would have been enough to keep her warm. Rookie mistake. She blamed it on the romanticising of what a Highland trip would look like more than anything else. 

“We’re almost there,” he leaned closer and kissed her temple, sensing her struggle with the boat ride. His arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“So who else is coming?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Up until this morning, she thought this trip was only the two of them. She already knew what type of reactions his friends would have upon seeing her, and the awareness of having to control herself all weekend, to watch every word she said, every reaction she had, was prompting a headache. 

That was always how it was around them; she played a role to fit in.   
  
“Alasdair, Tommy, and Sarah —”

“Elise is not coming?” Claire frowned, though more out of surprise than discontent. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that, at least, she wouldn’t have to deal with her here. 

It had always been cordial with Elise, but she wasn’t a dupe when it came to the woman’s fake enthusiasm. She was Lennox’s oldest friend and one of his clients. On some busy days, the man spent more time with her than with his fiancée. Out of the group, she was the one who had a tight smile and the inauthentic laughs when she met Claire for the first time. She caught Elise looking at her once or twice in a certain way — a way that seemed to wonder too many things at once. 

“Nay,” he said a bit loudly to be heard over the wind. “She has an audition this weekend, but she sends her love!”

Claire simply gave him a smile; there was no use answering him, she wouldn’t have been able to hide her contentment. 

Then, she looked straight ahead. It seemed that the fog was opening up to reveal the island. It wasn’t very big. However, the estate perched in the middle of it was enormous. The sight altogether took her breath away; a mixture of awe...and fear. They’d be here for the weekend, unreachable, in case of a storm. 

Her breath was coming in short spurts. Her hands shook, but not from the freezing temperatures. The palpitating pulse of the sea echoed her heart. 

Claire looked at the sky for a brief moment. It wasn’t as blinding anymore...instead, it was darkening rather quickly. Grey menacing clouds afar, approaching. All she could do was squeeze Lennox’s hand gently, snuggling close to him to try to relax. 

“Do a lot of people come here?” she asked, turning towards the captain. Discussions were always a good distraction.   
  
The man didn’t seem very old, forty at most, but the life at sea had added a few years to his harsh features. He wasn’t very tall either; smaller than her, actually. But he had a friendly face and curious green eyes, reminding her of a child. 

“In the summer, aye!” He leaned back slightly, smiling and ignoring the wave crashing at his side altogether. 

“‘Tis a bonny time for a visit, too. No’ many people come ‘round during this time of the year. But some do, mind ye,” he smiled, reassuringly. He seemed to have noticed her unease.   
  
Claire didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her until now that coming to a Scottish island in the middle of November was not much of a good idea. Not that spring and summer meant good weather here, but at the very least, the days stretched longer and they surely wouldn’t look so sinister. 

“The estate is a bonny place, though. Has belonged to the owners’ family for six generations, at least. The current Laird remodelled the place and opened for business a few months ago.” 

“All my clients want to come here,” Lennox interjected, proud to be witnessing this exclusive place before all the rich wankers he took care of. Most of them were actors. Most of them were despicable. 

“It looks to be a good setting for a story,” Claire couldn’t help but grin at that. Her writer’s mind opened up at the possibilities of what type of story she could take out for such a trip. His friends were all the sort of people one would find in a book, too. 

_Alasdair_ — a lawyer, already divorced twice. The business mind of a shark, the brain of a puppy, the behaviour of a toddler. He was and always had been Lennox’s shadow, apparently. Both attending some English boarding school for boys in the middle of nowhere. _“It bonds you, this stuff,”_ he said once, reminiscing about their school days. It was a Christmas party, and he had more coke up his nose than there was snow outside. 

_Tommy_ — She had met him before she even met Lennox at that party. He introduced them. He worked in publishing, forever the singleton. He was not one for commitment, he smoked and drank too much; but at least, he admitted it. He went to boarding school and to university with Lennox. 

_“My parents insisted I attend.” he shrugged off, proudly. “At least, I met that one,” he patted Lennox on the back, his eyes bloodshot and his laugh piercing._

_Sarah_ — Small in size but loud in character, she had welcomed Claire with open arms and a glass of whisky. She was a surgeon, with a severe look but a very piercing laugh. Compared to the rest, she seemed inoffensive and to actually like her a little. 

Then, there was Elise; but thankfully this weekend, Claire would not have to think about her. 

_Elise_ — Breathtakingly beautiful Elise. Lennox’s oldest female friend; like the sister he never had, he liked to say. The first person who trusted him with her career. She took credit for his business being so prolific; but the truth was, she had not been working for the past two years, and the offers were not really crawling, either. She was getting by because of detox tea advertisements on her various social media accounts. 

In the group, she was the one who had taken the least to Claire, though pretending it wasn’t the case at all. Even though Len did not seem to notice, her acting chops were truly shit. 

_“Maybe you should tell Elise it’s time to find another job?” Claire looked up from the trash tabloids on the breakfast table. Once again, Lennox’s protégée found herself on the front page, with less than flattering headlines. “Unless partying is part of her shtick?”_

_“Look, it’s been a bit rough for her, but she’s had some auditions and things are picking up,” he kissed her head, closing up the buttons of his shirt. She often wondered why he always found excuses for her behaviour._

_“Don’t be like that, aye?”_

_“Like what?” She knew what he meant._

_“I think sometimes it’s good to recognize something is not working anymore and move on. This is hurting her more than anything, Len.”_

_“She is my oldest friend, I can’t abandon her simply because she’s not landing roles the way she used to. It’s been tough for everybody. It’s only a little drought, she’ll get through it.”_

_A drought. That was the understatement of the century. Elise had had only one prolific role, and it was in a daytime soap so badly written that Claire had fallen asleep the first time Lennox had made her watch an episode._

_Turning to him, she smiled softly, “I know, love. I’m sure she’s very glad to have you on her team. I’m just saying...I don’t want her to end up, well, you know.”_

_“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, poppy,” he gave her shoulders a squeeze. “You should be thinking about your book right now.”_

_“Oh, I’m thinking,” she brushed off, taking a sip of coffee. The outline of her next novel was in her mind. Hazy but there, nonetheless. She should be thinking about that instead of wondering, all of a sudden if Lennox and Elise had ever slept together._

“The gang will arrive in the afternoon,” Lennox added, resting his chin on her shoulder. “We’ll have time to explore the estate in peace for a bit,” he winked. 

_The gang._

Her eyes focused on the island once more; the sight approaching at speed now. 

_The gang._

— God, she hated that fucking name.   
**  
*********

“Wow...” Claire looked around the hall, mesmerized. 

“This is quite something.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Lennox said softly, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He kissed the spot behind her ear; the spot only he knew about. “I told ye I’d make this weekend perfect, poppy.” 

“It’s already off to a good start,” she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was starting to relax again. Sheltered from the wind and the rain, she felt like herself again...the hall was too big to be warm, but it was better to be here than outside. 

“Ye’re in for a treat,” he whispered, pressing himself against her. His lips found her neck and his hands slipped under her blouse, their coldness making her wince slightly at the contact.   
  
“Len…” she closed her eyes, biting her lip. Claire knew exactly where he was getting to, but she was in no rush to stop him. After all, the place was huge and supposedly empty. 

“Aye?” he nibbled her earlobe, his hand squeezing the inside of her thigh. 

Goosebumps erupted over her skin along the path his fingers were following. That was one of the best things about their relationship — the sex. He had introduced her to an array of things she had no idea about before they met. He made her more adventurous; always in need to please him. To be pleased in return. No matter what went on between them during the day, they always could take the edge off at night. 

Somehow, Claire managed to lean against the nearest piece of furniture: a Victorian chest of drawers. On the wall in front of her, there was a painting of what looked like a noblewoman in the eighteen century. She had long red hair and piercing blue eyes. 

Her hands gripping his jacket, his hand coming dangerously close to a place she wanted it the most. She only noticed the painting when her own eyes opened again.

The very same eyes from the painting were in front of her. This time, belonging to a man. Broad and tall; taller than anybody she had ever met. The skin of his face was freckled and his curls were the colour of fire. For a brief moment, she stood there, entranced by this man, bewitched, completely forgetting Lennox and what he was doing. 

_Those eyes._

— she knew them.   
  
For what felt like more than mere seconds, their eyes were locked together. He didn’t move. He did not say a single word. It was as if he was too focused on her to notice what they were about to be doing. Or was he purposely not saying anything? 

Then, the man finally cleared his throat. 

Claire pushed Len’s hand away quickly, straightening herself. She was blushing; she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but not for the reasons one might think. 

Lennox pulled himself together and turned around, quickly regaining a perfect composure. He smiled broadly, “Oh, hello there. Sorry, we did no’ see you.” 

“Ye must be the first guests,” the man said in a perfectly calm tone, his accent so thick it made Lennox seem like an Englishman in comparison. He was returning the smile, but something about it felt hollow. He seemed to be studying Lennox closely. 

“Aye, that’s us,” Len took a step closer, holding out his hand. “I’m Lennox Campbell, and this is my fiancée, Claire.”

Claire came to join them. Her legs felt boneless and her head was slightly spinning, but she managed to smile, too, hiding the discomfort of whatever had just happened. Lennox had not seen this man watching them, but she felt his arm wrapping around her waist, like some sort of odd protective gesture. As if he was silently notifying the other man that she was, in fact, not his to look at. 

“Hello,” she answered, feeling the grip tightening around her. Lennox could be a brute, sometimes, but it never happened outside of the bedroom. 

“I’m Jamie,” he finally introduced himself, his dark eyes going from her to him and back again. 

“Let me show ye the room and bring the bags upstairs, aye? Ye’ve asked for the Laird’s room, if I recall.”

“Indeed I did,” Lennox grinned at her and winked. 

“This way,” Jamie motioned towards the big oak staircase before leading them to the second floor. 

Claire turned her head slightly, casting a look at the big window at the end of the hall. The rain was slapping against the stained glass rather aggressively. It wasn’t a mist anymore, the realisation bringing back the small ping of fear from earlier.   
  
Outside, it seemed, the storm was only getting started.


	2. The Not-So Unexpected Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so much for the lovely feedback on chapter 1! I'm so chuffed everyone's excited about this story and is willing to follow along. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too, which I'm afraid will only bring more questions than answers (but that will come in time, I promise) — Thank you so much for the comments, too!

The Laird’s room, as it was called, was large. Enormous, really. The space only widened by the accordion windows, opening up to a balcony, with the most breathtaking view over the sea. From here, it seemed that the place was floating over the water, up in the clouds. At the sight, the feeling of seasickness crept into Claire’s stomach again. For a brief second, it was enough to make her feel queasy. 

It was warm in the room, logs crackling in the fireplace. The tastefully wallpapered walls sheltering them from the wind and rain outside. The big oak pieces of furniture were cosy, adding to the charm of the place but with certain modernity with their designs. It looked like a place out of _Architectural Digest_ if AD did a piece on countryside retreats. 

“There’s an en suite bathroom,” Jamie placed their bags onto a decorative trunk and pointed to one of the doors. “Takes a wee bit of time for the water to get warm, but dinna fash yerself, it gets there after a minute.” 

“Really nice place, lad,” Lennox walked the parameter, addressing Jamie like he was some teenage valet meant to show them around. 

Claire noticed the way the ginger-haired Scot carried himself. His back was tense, and his posture not very natural. He was following Lennox with his stare, not blinking once. 

“It’s really lovely,” she added, smiling at Jamie. 

“Thank ye,” he smiled in turn, his eyes still curious to her. 

“I’m sorry...have we met before?” She couldn’t help but ask. The question had been burning her lips since meeting in the hall, and she wanted to see if it prompted any sort of reaction. 

The man shook his head, “I dinna think so, no.” 

— but she was certain they had, ever since her eyes met his. That look, she knew it. _From where?_ She needed to remember. 

“Oh, I must have mistaken you for someone else.” 

“The man would remember meeting a beautiful creature like you, poppy,” Lennox grinned, wrapping his arms around from behind. 

“Am I right, lad?” He looked at Jamie, tilting his head. His face had an expression of smugness she didn’t appreciate. She wasn’t a fucking trophy, and he was holding her too tightly. 

Jamie shot back a tense smile, “If ye need anythin’, ye can find me downstairs. The fridge is packed wi’ all the groceries ye requested when ye booked, and I can give ye a tour of the property now or wait for when the other guests arrive —”

“We’ll wait for everyone to get here,” Lennox winked, kissing Claire’s cheek before finally letting her go. 

“Do you think the weather will calm down?” he asked, looking out of the window briefly. “I thought we’d be able to go shooting this afternoon.” 

“It should be fine, aye,” Jamie answered, walking to the door. “Ye might even be able to kill yer own dinner.”

With that, he disappeared into the hall and closed the door. 

Lennox sat on the bed, bouncing a little. He was smirking, looking at Claire, “I hope we can find something to shoot for dinner.” 

The prospect was less pleasing to her. 

“Yeah, I would rather eat beans on toasts if I can avoid shooting whatever will end up on the dinner table.” She opened her suitcase and started to unpack her things, the pink diamond of her engagement ring catching the light. It was way too big, so much so that it weighed her hand down, and it was the most impractical piece of jewellery she owned. Lennox liked to go around telling people how much it cost, too, which made it all the more uncomfortable to wear. 

“Oh come on!” He reached for her hand and pulled her close. “‘Tis part of the fun of the weekend.”

“Len, we were supposed to come here for a romantic getaway, alone. If I can avoid killing an animal, that would be nice.” She looked down at him, cupping his cheeks. 

“We’ll have a blast.” He kissed her stomach, his hands squeezing her ass. “I promise you.”

“And, we’ve got some time until the gang arrives.” His smirk came back as he looked up at her. His hands moved upward, slipping under her sweater. 

“I intend to finish what I started in the hall, poppy,” Lennox stood up and pulled her close. 

“You know that we’ll be interrupted as soon as you start,” she pulled back slightly, crossing her arms. “We also have to unpack, and I’d like to take a warm shower before everyone arrives. It’ll take me a good hour to straighten my hair again.” 

“Come on,” he grabbed her arms, whispering, “I brought the silk ties.” 

His fingers tightened around her wrists. He rubbed her nose against her cheek before kissing her. 

“Len, please...not now,” Claire instinctively took a step back, hitting the chest of drawers behind her. 

— his fingers tightened some more, so much so that his knuckles were turning white. 

“Oh, poppy,” he whispered in her ear. “Come on,” he repeated. 

“You’re hurting me,” she breathed out, the oak of the drawers pressing against her back. 

“I’ve never heard you complain before.” His breath was thick against her cheek as he spoke. At once, he opened her legs with a swift move of the knee. 

Her eyes were focused on the door. Somehow, she felt like someone was behind it. _Listening in._

“Enough,” she hissed, his eyes widening at that. 

A knock came at the door, prompting Lennox to let her wrists go at once. 

“Yeah?” he asked, turning away from her, back to being his cool and collected self. 

“Yer guests are here,” Jamie said, impassible. There was no way to know just how much of their recent interaction he had heard. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes were focused on Claire again once he had finished addressing Lennox. 

“Oh,” Len grinned. “We’ll be downstairs in a minute. Thanks, lad.”

Jamie bowed his head and retreated into the hall, closing the door. Somehow, the thought of the other guests being there already made her stomach twist into a knot. She had prepared herself, and it still had not been enough.

“Do you mind if I join you all in a bit? I really want to take a shower and sort myself out,” she asked, though she didn’t leave him much of a choice. She tried to ignore the sting emanating from her wrists and the ache in her lower back. 

“Not at all, poppy,” Lennox kissed her palm and winked. 

“Take your time.” 

— she planned on it. 

Claire waited for Lennox to leave, for the door to close, to let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. There was something peculiar about him that emerged whenever his friends were around, or about to be. He switched into another side of his personality; _a darker one_. As if he was suddenly the leader of a pack. 

_A pack of wolves._

**********

Standing in the shower, Claire let the water cascade over her head, rippling down her body, warming her to the bone. Her eyes were closed and she leaned against the tiles. She could hear nothing of what was going on outside, storm or not, and the steam made it impossible to see beyond the shower’s glass door. 

The thought of staying like this forever was appealing. No one could get inside the bathroom, she had made sure of it by locking the door. She was also certain they’d forget she was even there once they’d had a couple of drinks — which they’d probably started having already. 

The scent of mandarin from the shampoo hung in the air, prompting childhood images of a time she spent in Marrakech with her uncle. She wished Lambert had been alive to meet Lennox; surely, they’d get along. Though even if that had not been the case, Lamb would have simply supported her. He never opposed any of her behaviour, never told her who to be friends with, who to date. She was her own person, and he let her exist just as such. 

The only time his uncle had shown true worry was that one time in Edinburgh…

Claire opened her eyes at the memory, a sharp intake of breath needed to bring her back from that place. It had been years, but the fear never left her. Whenever she was alone, whenever it was dark, she was wary— taking time to look over her shoulder to make sure everything was fine. Making sure no one was following her. 

— no, she wouldn’t think of that; not now. Some memories were better left alone. 

The wave of cold air hit her skin as soon as she stepped out of the shower. Shivering, she grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around her body like a shield. She rubbed her wrists, noticing how reddened they still were, and hoped no mark would appear. She used to wear a bracelet her parents had gifted her as a child, but since she lost it a few years back, she never bothered with jewellery again except a watch.   
  
Droplets of water dripped down her back as she ran her fingers through the curls. It was tempting to stay here for another hour to avoid socialising, the excuse of unruly hair that did not want to behave as she fought with the blow dryer. 

Sighing, she dabbed a towel through the curls and decided to let them be. It had been at least twenty minutes since Lennox had gone downstairs. She couldn’t push it, or else she wouldn’t hear the end of it from the ridiculous teasing remarks by Tommy, Alasdair, or both. 

Ten minutes later, she was changed and on her way out of the room. Curls dried, bouncy and shiny, framing her lightly made-up face. It was a wonder her hair was still in such good shape with the amount of straightening she did on the weekly basis. It had become an automatism since returning from Edinburgh — looking as different as she could than how she used to. A disguise, of sorts. 

However, it wasn’t needed when staying in an isolated island in the deep ends of Scoland. _Who would find her here?_

“Drop it,” she mumbled, pushing away those thoughts. She had not thought of it for a while — ever since the notes stopped coming altogether. She didn’t understand why everything suddenly surged back up inside of her.

 _Was it being in Scotland again?_ No, it couldn’t be. Perhaps it was the feeling of isolation creeping back up slowly; bringing back to the way she used to feel at university. Afraid and completely alone, though surrounded by people. 

The hall seemed interminable, longer than she remembered from earlier. Dark walls, decorated with paintings; the wooden floor cracking under her steps; and most of the doors closed, hiding the other rooms behind the heavy wood. 

Only one door was slightly ajar, piquing her curiosity. 

Quickly, she cast a look towards the stairs, towards the rumble of noises and laughter coming from down there. They could wait a few more minutes. 

Pushing the door slowly, she first made sure no one was inside before stepping into what was a library. The walls were covered with books, from floor to high ceiling, with stairs leading up to a railing. The huge arch windows brought in an outpouring of light despite the bad weather. 

She found herself walking around, her fingers running over the various spines, her lip flicking up into a pleased smile at the sight. Since her childhood, she had always felt better surrounded by books; so much so that she could block out whatever was around her, remove all feelings of unease or fear from her mind. Knowing there was a library in this place made everything feel better for a second. 

— just a second, however; an unfortunately and terribly quick second before the uneasiness engulfed her once more. The feeling of being watched came back, and she froze. Her head bent down, her hand clutching a first edition book she had only moments ago retrieved from a shelf. 

Slowly, Claire turned around. Most times, that sensation of someone observing her was unfounded. But today, someone was. 

Jamie stood at the door, his face once more impassible. 

_— What was this man thinking?_

_— How long had he been watching her?_

Questions floated in her brain, but nothing managed to slip out from her lips. For a minute, they just stood there and looked at one another, their eyes locked. His the colour of the sea, hers the colour of the earth. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she finally said, feeling the shelf press against her back. 

“I saw that the door was open, and I can’t resist a library,” she added quickly. Her glass face was notorious, so she prayed nothing gave away the unease she was feeling with this man. 

“Dinna fash, ‘tis open to everyone,” he quickly said, hands in his pockets. “I haven’t given ye a tour yet, but the grounds are yers to explore. ‘Tis how it works around here.” 

“Oh, good,” she nodded, smiling. “It’s a pity about the weather, I’d love to wander around.” 

“Aye, ‘twasn’t supposed to rain so much today.” His brows drew together in a frown. His eyes didn’t seem to be focused on her at all. He seemed lost, somewhere else, reliving a memory. 

“But it’ll calm down a bit,” he added. “Maybe no’ enough to have a barbecue outside, but we dinna have one anyway.”

“Then, that’s sorted,” she couldn’t help but grin at his little joke. 

“Ye can borrow books too, just make sure to put them back before ye leave.” 

“Of course,” she nodded, looking down at the copy in her hand. 

“I’ll come back later to see what I can borrow then.” She put the book back and looked at him again. “I shouldn’t make them wait for me any longer.”

The Scot nodded and stepped aside from the door, his eyes following her movement. 

“What ye said earlier —”

She stopped in her tracks, a shiver running down her spine. 

“About if we had met before.”

She waited for him to continue, trying to read any indication on his face, in his eyes. Nothing transpired. Suddenly, the shiver from earlier turned into goosebumps. 

“Have ye ever been to Scotland before?” The tickle of his breath against her cheek made her realise how close they were standing, bodies barely an inch from one another. Warmth emanating from him like the sun —too close, and it would burn her. 

“Only to Edinburgh, years ago.” 

— that was all she would say. No time frame, nothing else. If she could avoid telling strangers her whereabouts during that period, she always would. 

“We might have met there then.” He gave her a smile, looking at her for a tad too long. Then, without another word, he left the library. Leaving her there alone, memories of the scariest time of her life brewing inside her mind. 

_No, it couldn’t be._

Claire shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Then, another. After what seemed like a very long minute, she made her way out of the library and down the stairs. Jamie had disappeared altogether, the thought bringing both relief and, for an unknown reason, longing. 

She had to remind herself that she had never seen the face of the person who terrorised her at university. For now, that was enough to try and erase any suspicion that it was this particular man, as mysterious as he was. 

Lennox’s voice grew closer and closer as she walked down the stairs and towards the main living room, another fit of laughter erupting with it. She recognized her fiancée, the boys — and, of course, Sarah. 

Claire pulled herself together and finally appeared. Her smile was warm and pleasing, hiding any hint of dread that might be clogging her bloodstream. She had the oddest feeling of being a Stepford Wife; being the perfect hostess in a place that was not even her own. 

“There she is!” Lennox grinned, walking over to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. 

“Finally! We were startin’ to take roots,” Alasdair winked, raising his glass of whisky. “Ye look mighty fine, Claire.”

“Agreed,” Tommy interjected. He was sitting on the armchair, legs crossed and eyes focused on her face. 

“Finally, someone to rescue me from these children,” Sarah smirked, walking over to them. 

“Look at those curls! It suits you!” She touched Claire’s hair before hugging her.

“Oh, thank you,” she hugged her back. It was always a relief to see Sarah; not least because she was the one in the group who was the least abrasive to Claire. She never had a rude remark to make or a back-handed compliment to give her. 

“You’ll forgive us, but we already cracked the bottle open,” Lennox kissed her cheek and went towards the bar. He didn’t ask what she wanted to drink. Instead, he simply poured another glass of whisky and brought it to her. 

— she didn’t like whisky. He knew it. 

Claire had no time to protest, though. From behind her came a shriek that sounded like a pig and a kitten were both in agony at the very same time. 

When she turned around, the sight was probably worse than what she had just imagined. 

“Should I be offended that no one waited for me to start drinking?” Elise asked, hands resting on her hips. Her eyebrows were raised, her lip was up in a devilish smirk. Her eyes seemed to be only on Claire; as if they said: _surprise_. 

Everyone hurried to her, leaving Claire alone, to hug her and wish her a warm welcome. Nobody seemed surprised to see her at all. Not even Lennox. 

There and then, she realised that the only person who had no idea that Elise Walter was coming was Claire herself. When her eyes met Lennox’s, she felt like she was the punchline of a cleverly elaborate joke. 

She should have run — looking back, she truly wished she had. 


	3. diary entry - 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first diary entry in the story. There will be a few more throughout but I'm afraid I can't reveal just yet who is thinking those thoughts. I cannot wait to see your theories and guesses on this! You might notice the answer to what happened to Claire's bracelet mentioned in the last chapter, too...
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy! See you Friday for the next chapter.

_The first time I met Claire is a memory imprinted in my mind forever. Well, the first time I saw her, really._

_We didn’t meet in person that morning. That would come much later._

_She emerged from McNaughtan’s Bookshop, on Haddington Place. A battered satchel on her shoulder, and one arm wrapped around a pile of newly purchased books. I couldn’t make out the titles, except for one — an old edition of “The Hanged Man of Saint-Pholien” by George Simenon. I would later learn that this is one of her favourite books._

_Her curls were bouncing, catching the light. Her cheeks were pink from the cold October morning. High waisted jeans hugged her figure under her opened coat. A thin wool scarf was wrapped around her graceful neck; a hint of porcelain skin appearing on one side. She didn’t wear glasses then, at least not at the precise moment I saw her and I often wondered if she had them in her bag that day and if she was wearing contacts then._

_She was in too much of a hurry to notice me and, to be fair, I was standing on the other side of the pavement, hidden by people going by, she couldn’t have seen me. Even if she had, she wouldn’t recognize me now, anyway._

_That morning, she looked like the sun. Still does. Mesmerizing, enchanting. I could only focus on her; my eyes blinded by the glow emanating from her. I was certain that if I would even only just brush her sleeve, I would burn._

_I’ll never forget that sight._

_I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to be her friend, her confidant. I wanted to hear her laugh and be the reason she smiled. I wanted to hold her close when she was sad and reassure her when she was scared. I still do._

_I saw her a couple of times after that._

_Every time, I stood and waited for her to march on; blinded by the grace that carried her. Sometimes, she was alone: sitting on a bench, reading or scribbling notes while drinking a coffee at the local café. Other times, she was with people: engaged in lively discussions about literature or various other topics as they walked by together. I reckoned they were her friends. Each time, I was invisible. I wondered what I needed to do to belong there with them._

_Now here I am, looking at Claire again. This time, she is seeing me too and returning the smile I just gave her. She is sitting in the middle of the room, everyone around her. Planets and the sun, gravitating around her, feeding off of her. She doesn’t seem to notice how everybody in this room craves a little ray for themselves._

_I’m aware of the voices around us, of the gang talking and laughing. Cracking jokes and someone passing along the bottle of whisky, though it is barely noon. I watch her for another second, when she is too busy talking to the person next to her to notice me._

_There is something different from the girl I saw in Edinburgh all those years ago._

_There is a tightness about her smile and a certain restraint in her laugh. Her eyes are always in motion, looking around, studying her surroundings carefully as if she is afraid to miss an important piece of information that might put her safety in peril._

_I’m aware this was supposed to be a romantic getaway for her, and now here she is, with a bunch of people she only pretends to stand for the sake of her fiancé. But I wonder if there is more to it than just that?_

_Is it being back in Scotland? The one place where she had been afraid and terrified?_

_If only I could tell her I never meant to do any of it. I never meant to scare her. I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to be involved in her life and I couldn’t find a better option. Back then I felt invisible to her; I had to do something to get close._

_Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea._

_Perhaps, I should have found a better approach._

_But it is over now._

_I take a sip of my drink and decide to stop thinking about the past. She is near me, I don’t need to dwell on how I managed to make it happen._

_Have I told you that her debut novel was about us? No, I don’t think I have._

_Well, it’s not really about us, but it’s inspired by us; by what happened in Edinburgh._

_Our story, one might say._

_It got her a Man Booker prize and catapulted her to the status of literary star, isn’t it wonderful? Her writing is beyond anything I’ve ever read. And no, I know what you’re thinking, I’m not biased. She’s a magician with words; weaving them together to make the most impactful sentences. Storytelling seems so easy when she does it. I don’t know how many times I’ve read that book, but I mostly know it by heart now._

_Her other works are brilliant too, but this one has a special place in my heart._

_I don’t want to take credit for any of it, but I’m secretly pleased to know what happened between us was an inspiration for her. She romanticised it a bit, of course, she had to, she didn’t want to write an autobiography, and I’m not too keen on the ending, but I can’t be mad at her._

_I could never be mad at her._

_I shift a bit as I watch her now. Being near her is like a comforting hug my mother used to give me when I had nightmares as a child. When she isn’t near, and she isn’t nearly enough, I can always feel her presence close to me. Claire, I mean, not my mother._

_You’re wondering why, aren’t you?_

_Well, that October morning when I first saw her, I stood in place for a long minute after she had gone. Only then, something caught my eyes: on the pavement, a little silver piece catching the light. I made sure she wasn’t around before I approached and kneeled down to pick it up. It was a curb chain bracelet with her name engraved on it: Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp._

_When I turned it around, I noticed a date, which I reckoned was her birthday. I was right._

_I never go anywhere without that bracelet. It’s always in my pocket, like now, the material warm against my leg._

_I will give it back to her…I promised myself I would._

_— one day._

_— not now._

_Or maybe I’ll give it back this weekend? I’ll slip it in her things, and she won’t notice. There is more than enough time, and I have other things that belonged to her that could keep me company. Little tidbits she left behind back then, little tidbits I sneaked away before she had time to notice they were even missing._

_She is always losing stuff, Claire._

_She even likes to joke about how her brain can remember various books and quotations but not where she leaves her belongings like keys or a brand new pair of sunglasses._

_I was supposed to be busy this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to be on the estate at all; but when I heard she would be here, I couldn’t help myself. It’s been a while. Too long. The last time I saw her, the huge pink diamond gracing her ring finger was not yet there._

_We’re not going to talk about that, since neither Claire nor Lennox have announced anything yet. If she thinks he’s the right one, I can only step aside and be happy for them. Being with Lennox means she is near me. That is enough. That is all I need._

_I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I agree, it sounds a little bit obsessive._

_But what can I tell you? That’s how I function._

_When I love, I tend to get a little bit obsessed._

_— and I love Claire._

_I love Claire so much, it hurts and burns my insides like my body is made of lava just waiting to erupt._


	4. Diamond And Bubbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I had so much fun reading your theories in the last chapters. Have a lovely weekend xx

Claire leaned back in the Chesterfield, Lennox holding her left hand while her right absently twirled her glass; the sun reflecting into the golden liquid. Everyone was already on their third round, while she was plotting a way to ditch her first into one of the plants.

_Had they really only been here for two hours? It felt like days._

Elise, Sarah, and the boys were scattered around them on various cushions and armchairs, laughing at something less than funny her fiancé had just said about boarding school.

She realised early on into their relationship that she’d have to ignore most of his stories about his school days because he tended to repeat the same two over and over again, each time dramatising the whole experience a little bit more to make reality look and sound far more interesting than what it had actually been.

She had an inkling the weekend was going to be a long one, but she had hoped to be wrong. Just once, being proven wrong would have been nice. However, as her eyes scanned the people around her, their voices and laugh merging together, she acknowledged her intuition never faulted her.

It was going to be a fucking long weekend.

“We used to bully the first years a bit,” Alasdair suddenly added to whatever the story was, taking a sip of his drink. It seemed that the term bully was a badge of honour to carry around. No wonder he ended up where he currently was.

“Nothin’ bad, ye know? Just to scare them a little bit and rough them up around the edges.” His laugh reverberated into the room, loud and disgustingly greasy, just like the skin on his forehead.

“Wasn’t there an accident at some point?” Elise looked at Lennox. She was sitting on the cushions by his feet, looking up like his little puppet. She had been deliberately ignoring Claire since arriving, but of course, no one seemed to have noticed.

“I remember you told me something about that once,” she smirked, pouring another round into his glass.

Lennox had a whimsical expression on his face. His eyes were staring outwards, as if he was reliving the whole thing; the memory loud and clear in his mind. This was one anecdote Claire did not recall hearing. No one had ever mentioned an accident.

“What accident?” Claire frowned, looking at him.

“Nay, I wouldn’t call it an accident, really. Just a lad being too stupid to free himself from the game.”

“He was always a little wimp, that one. Afraid of his own shadow and all,” Alasdair chuckled into his glass.

“To free himself from what?” Claire ignored him and kept looking at Lennox, her eyebrows raised this time.

“Nothing, don’t fash yourself over it,” he smiled and kissed her cheek. “It was years ago, the lad wasn’t injured. Stupid school games.”

“He was terrorised enough to leave the school altogether though,” Tommy chimed in. “I wonder what he’s doing now. What was his name again?”

“Like I can fucking recall,” Lennox shrugged, grinning.

“I can’t either,” his friend added and drowned his drink. “He was only there because his father took care of the estate. What do you call that? Genitor?”

“Janitor,” Sarah looked at him, half-exasperated and half-amused.

“Yeah yeah, he was the help if you may,” Lennox stretched and wrapped his arm around her neck.

“And his son was a wet blanket that almost died because he couldn’t fucking swim.”

There was a certain cruelty to each of their tones — entitlement rooted in their brains due to childhoods of boarding schools, nannies, and privileged upbringings. None of them would stop once to think that the so-called “help” was a human being with rights just as valuable as their own. It was too much of a stretch for them to even consider it.

He couldn’t fucking swim.

Alasdair’s words hung in the air, but it seemed Claire was the only one to notice them. They reminded her of another accident…something from her childhood, but the memories were hazy.

_— the sea_

_— the cold wind stinging at her skin_

_— the panic clutching at her throat._

“Why don’t you go to the estate manager lad and ask for a bottle of champagne?” Lennox whispered into her ear, breaking her train of thought. The rest had resumed their conversations.

“We have something to celebrate, after all, eh?”

“Right,” she gave him one of those smiles and got up at once. If she could extract herself for a minute, it would be a welcomed distraction.

No one paid much attention to her leaving the sitting room. Or, at least she didn’t notice, because someone did pay attention.

— very close attention.

The eyes followed her out until she disappeared completely from view in search of the estate manager. That particular look, had she known, would have been enough to make her skin prickle in fear.

Claire found Jamie in the hall, sitting behind the front desk. For a moment, she stood there and watched him. He seemed to be too preoccupied with his task to realise she was near at all.

The light reflected on his hair; so red and vivid. She made a mental note to find a good way to describe the colour in written form, because she couldn’t come up with something elaborate enough on the spot. She was too mesmerized.

Jamie looked up.

She was caught staring.

“Can I help ye, miss?” he frowned, just a tad. His eyes pierced through her.

“Actually, yes,” she cleared her throat and smiled.

“Could we get a bottle of champagne?” Claire hated how that made her sound, but he was probably used to stuffy people coming here on vacation to drink themselves to oblivion, thinking that a retreat in the middle of nowhere was an adventure. A breather from their busy lives in big cities.

“I’m sorry to bother you, by the way,” she quickly added, watching him get up from the desk.

“Dinna fash, that’s what I’m here for,” he ran his fingers through his hair and mentioned for her to follow him.

“Yer reservation email mentioned to stock up the bar,” he continued, as they walked together towards another room of the house.

— of course, it did. Lennox had made the reservation but had somehow forgotten to mention to her he was inviting all his friends along. He seemed to have notified their host, at least. How polite, she thought, refraining from rolling her eyes.

Jamie unlocked the door of a room and stepped inside. He didn’t mention for her to walk in, but she did instinctively. He was quiet for a moment, looking through a cabinet for the bottle and a bucket. “Do you work here alone?” Her eyes reluctantly left the sight of him to look around the room they found themselves in. It was smaller than the sitting room, but it had all the components to be a formal living room. Beautiful shades of emerald mixed with warm browns decorated the walls and the floor. Another set of paintings hung above the fireplace. This time, two smaller portraits of children — both barely older than three or four, it seemed.

“Nay, I’ve got a wee team around. Josef is the cook and will arrive in a bit, and Angus takes care of the land, I dinna really have a green thumb.”

“There’s also my sister, Jenny. She takes care of the advertising sides of things, but she lives on the mainland and doesn’t visit often.”

“Oh, I see,” she said absently, only registering half of his words.

Claire was too enchanted by the paintings to focus on what he was telling her. She heard names and forgot them at once. She approached the fireplace, her eyes glued to the artwork. They were so realistic, like photographs. Only when she really came close did she notice the paintbrush strokes. Delicate but sharp, from an expert hand.

One was a girl and one was a boy. The latter attracted her eye the most, intrigued by a familiarity with the traits staring back at her. The blue eyes. The curls, faintly red. Compared to the painting in the hall, these were not ancient. The clothes and the difference in style gave her an inkling that they had not been made by the same person.

“Miss?” Jamie’s voice shattered through the glass that surrounded her thoughts.

Turning around, she looked at him again. He was standing closer, holding the bucket full of ice in hand. His expression seemed to wonder why she was so taken by things he was so used to being around.

“Sorry,” she blinked. “I was just looking at the paintings. They’re lovely.”

“Och, thank ye kindly,” he smiled softly. “I canna take any credit for those, I canna draw to save my life, but my mam was a wonderful artist and she made a few of the paintings around the place.”

“Oh, did she make these? And that’s you, isn’t it?”

“Aye, ‘tis my sister and me.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. The tall and broad man in front of her, pictured as a small child. He had changed quite a bit, but he carried the same expression of tenderness. It was something a bit hidden now, but it showed well enough if somebody cared to look long enough. It was an expression she had seen before.

— if only she could recall where.

“Here,” he handed her the bucket. “Call me if ye need anythin’ else, aye?”

“I will, thank you again.” She reached to grab the bucket, too fast as their hands touched and something flashed through her mind.

Claire let the bucket crash down over the carpet, the ice cubes squandering all over it.

“Fuck!” She dropped to her knees and quickly gathered everything, ignoring the cold against her hands. “Gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“‘Tis fine,” he kneeled next to her and helped her, his arm brushing hers from time to time.

“Truly. ‘Tis just a wee bit of water, nothin’ to fash yerself about,” he smiled again, this time less shyly than the previous ones.

“At the rate they’re drinkin’, yer friends will probably drop much heavier things on the carpet before the end of yer trip,” he added as a joke that felt more like an actual bucketful of ice cubes had just dropped over her head.

“Right,” she gave him a smile and got up, wiping her hands onto her jeans.

Jamie got up in turn and handed her the bucket again, “Here ye go, Claire.”

“Thank you.”

This time, she was careful not to touch him when she took the bucket off his hands. She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up to meet them. The apprehension she felt for this man only an hour ago was like a fog clearing to leave space for a foreign feeling.

Excusing herself quickly, she left the room, the heat from his glance clinging to her skin like claws to a neck, leaving Jamie alone in the front room while her feelings simmered at the surface.

“Poppy?” Lennox called a second before she stepped back into the living room, looking composed again.

“Ah, you’ve got the goods,” Lennox grinned, holding out his hand to her.

“Good, cause we were drying out here.” Smirking, Alasdair proudly held up the empty bottle of whisky.

“Wait a minute, you beast,” Lennox pulled Claire against him, nuzzling her neck. “We have an announcement to make first.”

“You didn’t think we made you come here for nothing, right?” He grinned, giving Claire a quick glance.

We, as if she had anything to do with their presence here today.

Claire bit the inside of her cheek and smiled, pretending to be listening to him instead of seething from his lies about who he had invited or not.

“Come on, spit it out!” Alasdair hurled like a wolf, bringing Tommy along with him. They were like children, though it would not be fair to compare the two groups. She had met kids far better behaved than them children who had manners and were polite.

“Shut up a minute,” Sarah rolled her eyes and hit Tom’s arm.

“Let the man speak,” Elise chimed in, crossing her arms. Her eyes were focused on Lennox, waiting for the next words to come out of his mouth. Did she look eager or was Claire making it up?

Lennox, oblivious to all of this, grinned broadly. With one swift move, he popped the bottle of champagne open, the foam flowing out the top and all over his arms before staining the carpet under their feet.

“We’re getting married!”

“Slainte!” The boys got up, their drinks ready to be filled. They didn’t really care about the announcement at all. It was simply another excuse for free booze.

They liked to be as inebriated as possible to forget what type of lives they lived, how bored and alone they truly were. Their careers were bringing in good money, but their personal lives had stalled and they were starting to get too old to attract any good prospects for a wife. Compared to Lennox, who was the most dashing one in their group of friends, their looks were fading and baldness was approaching alarmingly. They lived on meaningless one-night stands and their highest pleasures in life were belittling whoever they could.

Sarah and Elise also approached with a myriad of congratulations spoken in a matter of seconds to the happy couple. In Elise’s case, it took only a second before she was clinging to Lennox as if a death had just been announced.

“Show us the ring,” Sarah took Claire’s hand, grinning. At the sight of the pink diamond, her eyes widened.

“Damn, Lenny,” she grinned, nudging him. “You did well.”

“It’s huge,” Elise remarked, her eyes glued to the ring.

“It’s vintage,” Claire said softly, sharing the only fact she liked about the ring.

“It matches her eyes,” Lennox kissed her gently, smiling.

— it did not.

“It really is amazing,” Elise added, her turn to take her hand.

Claire felt like a jewellery display. Everyone around them was admiring the diamond on her finger, as if she wasn’t the one wearing it. Elise seemed to be glued to her body part, unwilling to let it go just yet. It was difficult to know what she was thinking right then. Her acting skills were horrendous, but they seemed good enough right now to pretend she really was happy for them.

At least, until her eyes locked with Claire’s, a fragment of something passing through. It was too quick to make it up and with what came after it, there wasn’t enough time to dwell on it.

“Can I try it on?” The question left the other woman’s lips without a second thought.

The boys looked at one another in amused surprise. Sarah seemed to be holding her breath, shocked by the rudeness of the question, while Lennox’s brows were drawn together in a frown as if trying to conjure that Elise had not, in fact, just asked this.

As for Claire, the question caught her completely off guard. So much so that she simply stood there, frozen, feeling the ring sliding off her finger. She was looking at Elise, happily trying on the piece of jewellery on her own ring finger and admiring the colour and the cut through the light.

“It fits me perfectly.” Her lip flicked up into a pleased smile, her eyebrow raising at Claire. Was she daring her to do something? Was this her way to describe the sort of hold she had on Lennox? Sometimes, Elise’s behaviour seemed to be purposely awful to keep Claire away enough not to see what she was trying to hide.

“I’m glad you love the ring, Claire. I helped him choose it,” she added, looking at her hand again.

“Come on, Lise,” Lennox pressed her gently, smiling to add the discomfort of such a revelation.

“Give it back now.”

“Why do you always have to spoil my fun?” She pouted, attempting to retrieve the ring. It took a few attempts — the ring didn’t fit so well, after all.

Elise pulled on her finger and sent the ring flying across the room. It landed onto the marble floor and shattered. It seemed that it was the moment the clouds decided to part to let the sunlight in. It caught on all the pieces scattered on the floor and a deafening silence descended onto the room.


	5. diary entry - 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another diary entry for ya! Thank you so much for reading and for leaving all your theories and comments on this story, I'm so thrilled to know you guys are enjoying it. Keep it up, I'm so curious to hear your thoughts on this. 
> 
> Be well xx

_We are all sitting very quietly, trying to process what happened minutes ago. We’re scattered all around, sitting farther apart than we used to be thirty minutes ago. The room smells of the champagne Lennox has spilt onto the carpet, with a mixture of woodfire coming from the fireplace._

_I can see the ring from where I am — or the remnants of it, really, sitting on the coffee table, gathered in a tissue. It shattered like porcelain onto concrete. What used to be an enormous pink heirloom is one step above dust, with a small bit of the precious stone still hanging onto the band itself._

_I can see Claire from the corner of my eyes. Her face doesn’t give anything away. Which is odd, because she is usually an open book._

_I feel terrible for her. Terrible for Lennox too, who seems to have lost any ability to speak after the fit he just threw. They’re both very rigid and stern, sipping drinks but not looking at each other. Not really looking at us, either._

_I’m not sure, but when the ring landed on the floor, I could swear I saw the tiniest spark of relief passing through her eyes. That’s probably wishful thinking on my part; but nonetheless, I wonder…_

_We are meant to go out anytime now._

_Shooting, apparently? I mean, what else were we meant to do around here but drink and chase our dinner for tonight?_

_The atmosphere is not truly suitable for fun and games at the moment, but this might take the edge off a bit. I hope._

_I’m tempted to go around and refill everyone’s glasses. On the other hand, it would be wiser to make myself small, to let things calm down a little before we start inebriating ourselves with alcohol once more. I have to keep reminding myself, we arrived here merely two hours ago._

_It seems that we were all a bit tipsy until now, the incident acting like a bucket of cold water poured over our heads. I’ve never sobered up so quickly._

_I can’t really recall a situation where I felt more mortified than I feel right about now. We all feel it, to be fair. There isn’t one person in this room that knows what to say or what to do next. I meet their glances and I understand. I think we’re all waiting for someone to come up and scoop us away as quickly as possible so we can all move on to the next thing and put this incident behind us. For a moment, at least, while we pretend this weekend is fun and light and that nobody destroyed a ring that cost six figures._

_Claire stayed very quiet while Lennox lost his temper, blabbering things about how precious and rare the ring was. How there were no two rings alike. Always making sure to mention the price._

_Yet again._

_I wish I had one pound every time he talked about the price, honestly. It’s becoming vulgar at this point. Aren’t rich people not supposed to talk about money? It seems that he forgot everything we learned in those stupid boarding schools._

_From the beginning of their relationship, he thought his money was what made him stand out. No, scrap that. He’s been thinking this long before he met any one of us, I’m sure._

_He is good looking, his father is a partner at Goldman Sachs, and his mother owns a private clinic. He came out of the womb with a silver spoon in his mouth and he’s always believed that being rich is one of his qualities and what makes him attractive to people._

_But I know Claire better than he does. Better than he ever would. I don’t think money means a single thing to her. She has her own, for a start. Shit tons of it — that comes with being one of the most popular writers of her generation, and from what her parents and her uncle left her when they passed. I read every interview, every review her books get. She’s not doing this for the cash. She’s doing this because she loves to tell stories. She could stop writing tomorrow and live comfortably for the rest of her life, if she wanted to._

_Granted, compared to Lennox it’s probably nothing. But my point is, that’s not what attracted her to him in the first place._

_What did? I wish I knew that in more detail. All I know is that I was certain they’d match. I was sure something could happen between them and guess what?_

_Yeah, I was right._

_Did I tell you I’m responsible for them being together in the first place? I don’t think I have._

_Well, anyway, I did set them up._

_Lennox was throwing the annual New Year party for his office and I had not seen Claire for a while. Back then, she was mostly spending her time in Oxford, working on her next novel, and I went there on weekends to check on her. Make sure she was doing alright, as one does. It was easy because Claire always writes at the same little café on weekends. It’s called Barefoot, they have great scones._

_I never showed up to her cottage. Or not when it was broad daylight, actually._

_Anyway, I digress._

_I invited Claire to the party which means I told Len’s assistant to put her on the enormous guest list — his assistant loves me. They were always inviting various well known people, artists and starlets, at these things to broaden their clientele, anyway. One more guest was not going to be much of a stretch. To this day, I’m pretty sure Lennox isn’t aware she was not on the list, to begin with._

_She came — dressed in black, her curls tamed in a bun and lips red as blood. She was a vision, moving around the room like she knew everybody. Like she owned the place. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. No one could, really._

_Neither did Lennox. The poor bastard didn’t know what hit him when his eyes landed on her._

_I watched him a lot. Each time, he was focused on her, the wheels turning at full speed in his head with a plan to accost her. It was the first time I saw him slightly nervous towards a woman, usually, he didn’t think twice about these things. He played on his charms; on being Lennox Campbell, the rich bachelor from Chelsea._

_But when I saw the way he was looking at her, there and then, I was aware my plan could potentially work._

_For the rest of the evening, they slowly gravitated closer to one another, first sharing glances before sharing drinks. I saw the way her head fell back when she laughed at some stupid but endearing joke he said. I was both delighted to have her near while ignoring the ping of jealousy in my heart._

_I couldn’t be with her. This was the only way to have her near me, I reminded myself._

_I eclipsed myself from the party before they did but I hung around in a cab long enough to know they left together. Only a few days later, Lennox told me about the new lass he had just met and spent a night with. I let him tell me all about her; her name, her job, how beautiful he found her. I let him ask me for advice. I let him tell me all these things like I had no idea who she was and I nodded, smiling, playing the doting best friend._

_I told him how good she seemed to be for him. I encouraged him to call her again, to invite her for a proper date. Then another. I managed to make him believe that, for once in his life, he wanted something serious with someone. That it was time to stop playing the brainless spoiled stud and settle with a woman who could take care of herself. A woman who, truly, did not need him._

_I know that this challenged him._

_I know that my plan worked._

_Claire is near me. She has been near me since they met at the party and went home together. That evening was the first time I officially met her though I had known everything about her long before that._

_It could have been a mess, trust me. Their relationship could have failed or they could have been sleeping together for a little bit before parting ways forever._

_Lennox isn’t her type. Before him, she had two semi-serious relationships. One lasted a bit more than a year, with a French chap called Léon who worked in finance (they broke up when he went back to Paris and she didn’t want to follow him). The other one lasted around ten months, with a professor at Oxford. He was a bit older than her, very dashing and he was called Greg. He still teaches ancient literature and shows up at her book signings, sometimes. I know, I saw him. She saw him too but she never saw me._

_Those men were more serious, more intelligent than Lennox. Men she could actually keep a conversation with that didn’t resolve solemnly about superficial things. So what does she love in Lennox, you ask? Like I fucking know._

_I think she likes the challenge, just as much as he does. Taming the wild animal he used to be. Turning him from immature fuck boy to potential husband. Proving to herself, and everyone else in our group around us, that she could mould him into the poster boy for monogamy._

_Let me tell you something, she managed to do just that. Am I surprised? Not one bit._

_In public, they are perfect together. A golden couple if I ever saw one. That’s how we refer to them when they’re not around and the term makes me want to gag but I refrain myself._

_Everyone envies them, everyone wants to be like them._

_In private? I’m afraid to say I don’t really know. I’m not sure. Lennox doesn’t disclose much about their relationship but there are some things that lead me to believe not everything has turned out to be roses and rainbows. He can’t possess her completely and that seems to drive him mad. Paradise has its snakes, right?_

_I think I should get closer to Claire this weekend._

_This trip is the perfect opportunity for that. Yes, even with the ring incident._

_I’ve always been careful enough to keep my distance from her because there’s a certain apprehension from being too close to her. I don’t want to get burned. I don’t think she likes us much. No, I know she doesn’t. Not that I can blame her._

_I wouldn’t like us much, either._

_At least, she is always polite and smiley. Engaging in the conversation or listening to whatever anecdotes we share about our years of friendship. She must hate the inside jokes, the stories, or the way we’re all so close to Lennox. Some more than others…._

_I look up now._

_We are finally about to be off to explore the grounds around the estate. The wind still blows but the rain has stopped. Nothing our expensive Barbour jackets won’t protect us from._

_As I get up, I notice the look Claire gives in our direction. I can’t read it. I don’t know if it’s directed at me or not. Lennox has wrapped his arm around her already, like a protective shield. He can be very sweet when he wants to be, and this is all part of his little scheme to win back some points after hiding the fact that we would all be here this weekend from her._

_We are still very silent, finishing our drinks and getting ready to go outside. The tension seems to get thicker by the second. I can’t meet her eyes. Nor Lennox’s. I pretend to be busy with my zip, and I’m certain I’m not the only one doing so._

_We’re going to need a lot more alcohol before someone dares to mention what just happened. I’m actually thankful no one hasn’t brought up the topic because I know it’s going to open a can of worms._

_What did I say earlier? We’ve been here for two hours, right?_

_Yeah, well, imagine what we’re going to look like at the end of the weekend._


	6. Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading guys! As promised, the second chapter this week and the third will be up on Saturday. Keep the theories coming, I enjoy reading them so much! 
> 
> Enjoy and be well xx

Claire was soaked to the bone. Shivering, curls dripping with rain, tucking the jacket closer to her. The wind had not stopped. It actually seemed that it was only increasing with each step she took. She couldn’t bring herself to look down at the sea. She was afraid she’d slip and fall. Or that something, or someone, would push her.

When they first left the estate, it was dry. Only slightly windy. Over the next hour, being outside had been all right. It wasn’t very pleasant in comparison to the alternative of being cosied up near a fire, with a warm drink in hand, but it was okay. On the other hand, she’d rather be out there than inside, confined with them all and the noise that seemed to be following them.

They had been in search of animals to shoot, but it had started to rain again once they found a few, and Jamie had to temper the excitement of Elise, Alasdair, and Lennox — who all wanted to hunt their dinner at any cost. It wasn’t possible to stay outside like this for more than a couple of minutes, nor was it a good condition for shooting.

Claire had an inkling that the weather wasn’t the primary excuse for cutting their hunting trip short. She sensed that the Scot was aware she wasn’t too pleased about killing their dinner and thus had found the first excuse to send them all back inside. It was almost as if he could sense whatever was going on in her mind.

They were walking back towards the house now, hurrying as it continued to pour, Claire had not realised how big the island actually was. From the boat, it had seemed like a tiny dot in the middle of nowhere, the circumference small and welcoming. Once on the island, it was a different story. Someone could get lost here. Someone probably had.

As they made their way back, she noticed how different Jamie was from the other men in her group. He towered over everyone, and Lennox was anything but short. Jamie was buff, most likely from the work he did around the house versus an expensive gym membership. And his hair…he wasn’t wearing a hat, which made the red stand out so much more in the grey gloom around them.

Claire shoved her hands into her pockets for warmth, getting used to the feeling of not having a small weight attached to her finger. As strongly as her anger was simmering on the surface, it had nothing to do with the fact that her ring was ruined.

— she never liked that ring in the first place. Unpractical and attracting the eye far too much.

_She was angry for a myriad of other reasons._

For Elise’s behaviour, her confession about being the one choosing the ring in the first place (that actually made sense now). She was annoyed at Lennox for failing to mention he had invited everyone. But most of all, she was ashamed at the way the boys were behaving in front of Jamie. Parading around like spoiled children, making remarks and less than appropriate jokes to the poor man, who could only return a smile and pretend they were not complete wankers. They were paying customers, after all; he had to be civil.

“I’m freezing,” Sarah mumbled next to her, eyes half closed because of the mixture of wind and rain.

“So am I. I took a shower earlier, but I might as well take another one when we get back,” Claire answered, looking straight ahead.

“That, or a warm bath,” the other woman said, blowing onto her hands. “I thought the whole point of rural retreats was staying indoor with booze and biscuits.”

Lennox grinned, chiming in, “You always have to spoil the fun, Sarah. How great would it have been to eat somethin’ we shoot ourselves?”

“Not great, actually,” she made a face.

“You’re romanticising this way too much, Lenny,” Tommy said in turn, sipping onto a beer he had been carrying around for an hour. “It’s actually kinda gross if you think about it. I’m not one who enjoys the sight of blood and organs dripping out of a lifeless body.”

“Always the need to exaggerate,” Lennox hit his arm playfully, laughing.

“Thankfully I asked for the fridge to be stocked up,” he added, ignoring his friends. He wrapped his arm around Claire, pulling her close.

“Right, lad?” he addressed Jamie, who turned around and nodded.

“Aye, our chef will make ye a feast. I can promise ye that,” he smiled softly, his eyes looking at Claire for a brief second.

“What’s on the menu?” Claire asked a bit louder, to be heard over the wind. Walking was already difficult enough; with Lennox leaning against her, it was slightly torturous. But he hung on, like a dead weight to her side.

“Lobsters caught this verra mornin’, roasted wi’ a butter and garlic dippin’ sauce, and some sautéed vegetables and for dessert, a cranachan.”

“Oh my, that sounds decadent,” Elise made wide eyes, looking at Jamie as if he was the meal. She always felt the need to flirt with every living organism around her, as if she tried to deflect the purpose of her very existence.

“Josef is a great chef,” he said, ignoring her. “We’re verra lucky to have him work for us.”

“It sounds delicious,” Claire smiled at him and he smiled back, which made something flutter in the pit of her stomach. She was blushing, but her cheeks were too pink from the cold for anyone to notice.

“I’d like to taste some venison, at some point,” Lennox interjected, looking at the red-haired Scot. “Would that be possible tomorrow?”

“Oh aye, it can be arranged. I’ll tell the chef to prepare a menu wi’ venison for ye. Lunch or dinner?”

“Dinner, thank you, lad,” he patted his back quite harshly, prompting Jamie to only give him a tight smile, biting the inside of his cheeks.

Something went through his eyes: a quick look of utter disdain.

— One that could kill.

Claire wondered what he was thinking there and then. Because from what she understood, it seemed like Jamie would have punched Lennox if he had been able to.

“I’m really happy no one mentioned haggis,” Elise made a gagging sound. “I was afraid we’d be banged over the head with Scottish food here, but thankfully, the standards are a bit higher than that.”

“What the fuck do ye have against Scottish food?” Alasdair looked at her, eyebrows raised. “You’re Scottish, are you no’?”

“Yes, but my palate has evolved from so many years in London, darling. It now craves good food and not simply things I’m used to eating because my family comes from some place in the middle of nowhere.”

“Are ye serious?” Lennox rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying, I’m glad you found a sophisticated place!” She threw herself against him, grinning.

“Not that I expect anything less from you.” She was speaking to Lennox, but her eyes were focused on Claire for a moment. A very long moment.

Claire let go of Lennox’s arm and picked up the pace to keep up with Sarah and Tommy, the whole group being led by Jamie. She tried her best to ignore Elise and Lennox behind her, instead focusing her eyes on their guide. It seemed that he was a magnet for them, leading them back, and the constant wondering about him was already starting to drive her mad.

God, how much she wished to be anywhere but here.

***********

Claire stood in front of the mirror, buttoning her silk shirt.

Outside, the light was starting to fade, the daylight leaving space for the moon while the rain had only increased, the noise shattering against the windows mixed with the crackling of the fireplace.

It was warm in the room — almost too warm, which left Claire with absolutely no desire to leave and go downstairs for dinner. All she wanted to do was slip in bed, grab a book, and have an early night. Or maybe do some writing. Ideas for her next novel had been swirling in her mind all day, if only she could sit down and put things down on paper.

“Look at ye,” Lennox smiled, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I already am looking at myself,” she motioned to the mirror, closing the last button. “Do you mind? I’d like this shirt not to get stained.”

“Poppy,” he kissed the exposed skin of her neck. “I’m sorry about your ring earlier, okay? You don’t have to give me the cold shoulder all weekend.”

“It’s all right, isn’t it? You have all your friends to keep you company,” she brushed him off, extracting herself from his grasp. She couldn’t care less about the ring, though the thought of the diamond being fake made her want to roll her eyes. What she was really angry about was how he gaslit her into thinking his friends were always going to be here.

Sitting on the bed, she put on her heels.

“I don’t want to argue wi’ you,” he leaned against the chest of drawers, watching her. “I really don’t. We were having a good time and ‘tis the whole purpose of this getaway.”

“Who said anything about arguing?” She looked up at him, leaning back onto her palms.

“Unlike some people, I don’t like to cause a scene in public nor do I want people to know what’s going on privately in our relationship at any given time.”

“All I’m saying is that next time, don’t pretend you’re taking me on a celebratory romantic trip when you have invited all your friends before you even talk to me about it.”

“I know you’re mad about the ring.” He walked over to her, brushing off the remark about the trip. “And I understand, really I do. But I promise you, I’ll get you another one.”

“Even bigger.”

“I never liked engagement rings anyway,” she got up and looked at her phone. There was still not a single line for any signal. Suddenly, a rather awful thought engulfed her mind: what if they needed to call the emergency number? What if something happened and she couldn’t reach anybody?

“Are you mad because I asked Elise to help me pick it out?” Lennox gently took her hand.

“Poppy? Is that it?” He spoke softly, frowning. He didn’t seem to understand what was wrong in that.

“Of all people, you had to ask her for advice,” she rolled her eyes, looking at him. “Honestly?”

“She knows her stuff,” he pulled her closer, lifting her chin, “And you two have similar taste. See how she always ends up buying something you own without even knowing you own it?”

“Right,” Claire mumbled. It was fairly common that this happened, too. Whenever she bought a new pair of shoes, or a handbag, Elise would miraculously own the same items. One time, she even managed to buy the same custom bike that Claire had gotten as a gift from her editor.

“Anyway,” he cupped her cheeks, smiling gently, “I’m sorry about the ring, and about asking her to help me pick it out. I don’t even fucking know why it broke like that, I will have a word or two to say to the jeweller.”

He lifted her chin for her to look at him, his eyes dark, his expression soft, “I’ll give you a new one without consulting anybody.”

“Can we go and have a good evening now?” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb.

Nodding, she returned the smile. There was no point in arguing now. She had decided early on today that as soon as they returned back to England, she’d have too much work in Oxford to visit him in London for a few weeks.

“The quicker this dinner is done, the quicker we can get back here and lock the door,” he whispered, pressing his nose against her neck.

A crack came from the hall and Claire frowned, “what was that?”

“What?” he held her close, running his hands up her back.

“There was a noise outside the door,” she unclasped his arms from around her and walked towards the door, frowning.

“Stop being paranoid, poppy,” Lennox whined, grabbing her hand. “No one is here but us.”

Lennox was aware of what had happened to her in Edinburgh. To this day, she still woke up in the middle of the night because of nightmares. She still hated going to get the mail, afraid to find a note or a little parcel from her admirer. The smallest of noises was able to set her worries ablaze and bring her fears back up. He knew; but because it all happened before they were together, because it stopped as soon as they started dating, he barely took it seriously.

With a shaky hand, Claire turned the doorknob and opened the door at once.

— the hall was empty and dark. Elise’s door was shut. So was Tommy’s. Alasdair and Sarah were in the rooms on the floor below. No one could have been there. She was imagining things again.

“See, nobody is listenin’ in,” he kissed her cheek and smiled reassuringly. “Now, let’s go downstairs.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” she rubbed the back of her neck and made her way towards the stairs. Lennox was following closely behind, humming to himself.

The hubbub of voices, reminiscent of earlier this morning, was still present. Coming from the sitting room, along with a warm glow of light.

A second before Claire walked into the room, Lennox grabbed her hand and stepped in with her. A broad smile on his dashing face. They did really look like a perfect couple.

“You started drinkin’ without us, uh?” he grinned, pulling Claire towards the centre of the room.

Much like earlier, everyone was sitting around the various armchairs. Except this time, the coffee table was decorated with a tray full of glasses of champagne and a couple of unique snacks.

“Shut it, we waited this time,” Tommy handed everyone a glass, winking.

“Jamie just told us dinner will be ready in thirty minutes,” Sarah said, leaning back into the chair.

“He is hot, isn’t he?” Elise smirked. She was sitting in front of the fireplace, looking up at everyone. “The quiet type, I’d say. But hot, nonetheless.”

“Do you think he’s married?” Sarah asked, looking at her friend with a grin.

“That’s none of our business,” Claire said flatly, sitting down.

“Are you thinkin’ about some weekend fling, Lise?” Tommy teased, throwing a cushion at her.

“I have an idea for one if ye need a recommendation,” Alasdair smirked, not talking about himself.

“You are all worse than children,” Lennox rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Claire.

“Yeah, honestly, isn’t there another topic for us to talk about?” Sarah took a sip of her drink.

“Tell us about your latest heart transplant, doctor,” Tommy grinned at her. “You know how much we want to know about all the gory details.”

“Oh, me! I have news,” Elise raised her hand, grinning widely. “Exciting news, I might add.”

All the heads turned to her, waiting for her to proceed.

“I have been cast in a movie! And, as the lead. Lennox already knows for obvious reasons but —”

“What movie?” Claire asked, raising her eyebrow. She wasn’t particularly interested. She simply felt it was, once again, going to be laughable.

“A thriller of sorts,” she explained. “I haven’t received the script yet, but it sounds quite good.”

“You sign on to a movie without reading the script first?”

Elise ignored that question and proceeded, “What about you, Claire? Anything new in the works?”

“Some things, but it’s all still in the early stages. I’m plotting away and we’ll see what comes out of it.”

“You should have one of your books made into a movie,” Alasdair proposed, gulping his champagne. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Your first one would make a terrific film,” Elise said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Trust me, some people have tried to get the rights. She doesn’t bulge,” Lennox smirked, kissing her cheek.

“If someone comes up with a good adaptation idea, I might sell the rights, but no one has yet,” she leaned against him, sipping her drink.

The prospect of her books on screen gave her absolutely little to no thrill. Her stories might be fictional, but they all came from a deeply personal place. She couldn’t bring herself to completely abandon them to somebody else’s vision. It was too difficult.

“You know,” Elise got up, walking over to the table again. She poured herself another drink, “This party is sweet, but it’s going to turn really dull quickly if we don’t do anything to spice it up a bit.”

“I think you’ve spiced up the weekend enough, earlier,” Tommy mumbled, though everyone heard him.

“I’m just saying that a dinner party is no fun without a little game or two,” she sat down onto a velvet stool, crossing her legs like a child.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Alasdair clapped his hands together.

“Don’t say Pictionary, last time we all fell asleep before the third round,” Sarah chuckled.

“I wasna going to say that, no,” he shook his balding head.

“All right then, what?”

“Let’s play…” He paused, looking around the room to each and every one of them. His eyes were flickering with a certain sparkle, as if he knew his idea was about to cause mayhem.

“Truth or dare.”


	7. It's Only a Game, Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a third chapter this week! I have an inkling that you might enjoy this one a bit more than the others...
> 
> Have a lovely weekend and thank you so much for reading and for leaving me your theories! Be well xx

“Truth or dare?”

“What are we, fifteen?” Elise rolled her eyes, pretending that the prospect didn’t thrill her one bit. Once again, her acting skills were piss poor.

Alasdair grinned and opened a new bottle of whisky, “Do ye want to start then, Lise?”

“Fine,” she narrowed her eyes. “Truth or dare, Al?”

Leaning back, his smirk grew, “I’ll start with a truth, then.”

Elise took a sip of her drink and thought for a second. Then, her face completely changed. It went from a neutral expression to the most mischievous smirk.

“Do you fancy anyone in this room?”

“Of course I do,” he said simply.

“Is it me?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No follow-up questions, that’s the rule.”

“What’s the rule if we don’t want to answer or do the dare?” Tommy asked, leaning against the sofa.

“We drink,” he smirked, holding up the bottle of whisky. “A lot.”

“All right,” Alasdair looked around, “Sarah, come here darling. It’s your turn.”

Lennox wrapped his arm around Claire and pulled her closer. He didn’t seem keen on playing childish games with the group. For the first time since they arrived here, Claire felt like he didn’t want to be here at all.

“Give me a dare,” Sarah crossed her arms, waiting for her friend to proceed.

“Go and ask that Jamie lad about joining us. Tell him we want his company.”

“Seriously?” She looked at him, dumbfounded. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“That’s all, for now, aye,” he grinned. “Are ye afraid or something? At worst, he’ll say no. At best, it’ll spice up the evenin’ a bit.”

“Fine,” she threw her hands in the air and got up. “I’ll be right back.”

“And don’t pretend you’ve asked if you haven’t, we’ll know!” Tommy raised his glass as she disappeared from the room.

“Can’t you leave the man alone?” Claire finally spoke, all of the heads turning to look at her.

“I’m sure he has better things to do than play this silly game,” she continued. “I doubt running this estate means having to amuse the guests like a puppet.”

“It actually means just that, poppy,” Lennox chimed in, suddenly back into the game.

“Does it now?” She tilted her head to look at him.

“Come on, it’s just a little bit of fun,” he kissed her lips gently. “He’s all alone here, surely some company can’t hurt the lad.”

“He might want to stay professional and not mingle in the affairs of people who are renting his house for the weekend,” she shrugged. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“You and your stiff upper lip, poppy,” her fiancé smirked, kissing her again.

_— ah, yes, the English argument._

Whenever Claire rolled her eyes at their behaviour, or whenever she called them out, they liked to blame it on her Englishness. They tended to forget they had all been living in England for a little while now, only picking up the topic of their Scottish roots whenever it best suited the conversation. None of them went back to Scotland for the holidays nor to visit their families very often.

“Don’t start with that,” she said in a lower voice, aware of the eyes observing them.

“I won’t.” Winking, Lennox took her hand and brought it to her lips. “It’s only a game, love.”

Sarah returned a minute later, smirking. Closely following was Jamie, a slightly puzzled look on his face.

“Ye asked for me?” he asked, standing by the fireplace.

“Join us, lad,” Lennox got up and handed him a glass of champagne. “We want your company for some pre-dinner drinks and games.”

“I should be makin’ sure dinner is comin’ along, actually,” the red-haired Scot said, running his hand along the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I dinna drink nor spend time with guests.”

“Then you will make an exception for us tonight,” Lennox wrapped his arm around his neck and pulled him towards the centre of the room.

Claire watched, feeling incredibly embarrassed. Jamie didn’t seem to be thrilled at all by the prospect of spending time with them, but he couldn’t really say anything and she knew that. His face didn’t give anything away either; but whenever he was around them, she noticed how his entire demeanour changed. Tensed. She thought back on their time together in the office earlier, where he still seemed closed off yet much more relaxed and easygoing in comparison.

Lennox’s smug expression grated on her nerves, too. He seemed adamant to torment this man, in his own way. It was little things, such as calling him lad constantly — he was barely one or two years younger than him — as well as flaunting his wealth by reminding Jamie exactly who was paying to rent the estate for the weekend and therefore who he had to answer to.

Customer is King seemed to be flashing in a bright neon light over Len’s head whenever he addressed Jamie. It never occurred to him that for someone to own a private island with such a large estate, it might mean there was money somewhere.

“Truly, I dinna mind stayin’ but no drinks,” Jamie said firmly, extracting himself from the other man’s grasp to sit down.

“Truth or dare, Jamie boy?” Alasdair asked, looking at him.

“I think I’ll pass,” he answered, smiling tightly.

“You sure can, but you have to drink this.”

Jamie was presented with a glass of whisky, fuller than whatever was customary for such a drink. His nostrils flared, his jaw tensed.

“You don’t have to drink that,” Claire said quickly, ignoring the boys’ incendiary looks towards her.

“It’s just whisky,” Lennox rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to kill you, lad.”

“If he doesn’t want to drink, let’s not make him drink,” Elise stepped in, sitting close to Claire. “And let’s move on, this game is getting boring.”

“Let’s move on to something else —”

“Claire and Lennox haven’t played yet,” Tommy said.

“I’ll go first,” Len smirked, taking a sip of his drink. His Scottish accent grew thicker with each drink. “Give me a truth.”

“Risky,” Tommy nudged him, already laughing.

“Have you slept with anybody in this room? Beyond Claire, of course.”

Sarah’s question resonated like a bomb. Every single person in the room (save Jamie) had always wanted to know. The topic came up in conversations more often than any other, carefully crafted so as not to arise whenever Claire was around.

She herself had started wondering about it after a remark Alasdair made once — about how Elise and Lennox had been always close. Too close. He had been drunk, but his words stuck with her. So she wondered. Every time she was around her fiancé and his best friend, she would observe them; sometimes, she would think there was a line that had never been crossed. Other times, she was convinced something happened, at least once.

Claire looked at Lennox, wishing for him to answer. Either to tell the truth, or even to lie if the truth would hurt. He didn’t seem taken aback by the question at all, keeping his demeanour cool and collected.

She tried to pretend nothing was bothering her, but she had a glass face. Whatever emotion she tried to hide was plastered on for everyone to see. He was taking too long to come up with an answer, which only fed any insecurity she was feeling about the topic.

Just lie, she wished silently, gripping her glass too tightly.

Lennox let out a laugh; mocking and way more high-pitched than the usual sound she was accustomed to. He held out his hand to Sarah, “Give me the bottle, _Olc aon_.”

Sarah untwisted the cap and handed it to him. Her expression was difficult to read. She neither seemed amused nor embarrassed by the question she had asked. She met Claire’s eyes briefly, but she didn’t smile. Claire felt utterly naive.

How could she have thought she had an ally in this group?

Len raised the bottle proudly and winked at Claire, “Slainte, then!”

Sinking further down in her seat, she wondered how much longer until dinner would be served. And how much longer before she could fly back to Oxford and forget about this dreadful weekend — little did she know how much worse it would turn out to be.

“It’s Claire’s turn,” Tommy patted her knee.

Of course. How could she believe for a second they were going to forget about her?

“Truth or dare, Claire?”

“Dare,” she answered without thinking too much about what they would come up with.

Was it the wisest choice? Probably not. Did she want to reveal some secret truths they had been dying to ask of her since the first time she was introduced to them? Absolutely not. A dare would have fewer repercussions.

_— or so she thought._

Tommy looked around the people in the room, appraising each and every one of them. He pretended he had no idea what to come up with for her, when in fact, he had decided what to ask of her as soon as a certain red-haired Scot had walked into the room.

“Kiss Jamie lad, over there,” he motioned towards the red-haired Scot.

“Fuck off, Tommy! She’s never going to do that,” Lennox said smugly, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“Then she’ll drink,” Alasdair added, looking at Claire with an amused smile.

“It’s all right,” Claire interrupted their little conversation.

Her eyes met Jamie’s, a silent communication passing through them. The dare was clearly made to embarrass her, and Jamie by the same occasion. She’d be damned if she gave them the satisfaction without taking the situation in her own hands.

“I’ll do it,” she smiled towards Tommy, whose face had fallen, and felt Lennox tense next to her, his face completely melting. He wasn’t going to like this one.

“Only if Jamie is okay with it, of course.”

Jamie seemed as adamant to get back to them as she was. For the first time since they arrived, he smiled. A real smile, both amused and pleased, “Aye, I am.”

What happened next seemed to take place in slow motion.

Claire’s mind went blank. She got up, and she saw Jamie get up in turn, both of their bodies gravitating towards one another like magnets.

They were standing in the center of the room now. Surrendered by the group, their voices morphing into an incomprehensible blur. Someone was whispering something, someone else was trying not to cackle; both were actually Alasdair, who was past the point of drunkenness.

Most of them grew very still and simply watched.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could observe Lennox, who was carrying a sober expression. His eyes seemed to plead with her not to do it. To turn around and give a laugh, telling the group she was joking and that she would drink instead.

She thought about that possibility. For a split second, she could do it. Pretend this was a joke like the ones they loved to act out, but she decided against it. There was a certain selfishness about this decision. Simply put, the idea of kissing Jamie wasn’t completely repulsive to her; quite the contrary. Most of all, getting back to Lennox in this way was like a treat dangling in front of her — so close to reach.

Her eyes locked with Jamie’s, who now stood so close to her she could feel the warmth emanating from his body. He wasn’t going to move any further. She could step back and avoid this, or she could take one step closer, tiptoe up, and seal their lips together.

They were both equally there to amuse the gang. To be the butts of the jokes, while else everyone laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. Both had decided to instead turn it around. Were they going to go all the way? The choice was hers to make.

— and she did just that.

Forgetting the stares around them, Claire took a step closer. She could do with a little peck, a brush of the lips. Innocent and chaste. But why would she settle for that? No, she wasn’t going to.

Slowly, she cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer. It seemed to be a given between them; they just fit. Jamie moistened his lips that were now only an inch away from hers. He waited another second — one he would later describe as the longest of his life. She leaned up and finally sealed her mouth onto his.

Their lips overlapped gently.

— at first.

Before starting a long and languorous dance together, unable to part for more than a quick second.

Her hands locked around his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist and pressed her body against his. For the first time today, she felt good. Safe. It was pleasant to kiss somebody who didn’t expect anything in return.

Now more than ever, she felt that connection again. The bone-deep conviction of knowing this man. Of having met him before. His lips tasted salty like the sea, and there was a faint hint of coffee lingering on his mouth.

Each passing second was bringing them closer to parting, and the thought was not as relieving as it should have been.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Lennox, who had somewhat stood, yanked on her arms rather harshly and pulled her away from him.

Jamie cleared his throat and looked at him, his eyes widening at how rough he had been with Claire. He was about to say something when she stopped him with a gesture only he noticed.

“I, uh…” he narrowed his eyes a bit, but smiled. Pleased. His voice did not sound quite like the one Claire had been growing used to — it had something underlying it. Almost as if getting back to Lennox had meant more to him than what it seemed.

“I’ll go and check if dinner is ready. It should be by now.”

Claire stood there, her lips swollen and tingling, her arm pinching, and watched him excuse himself out of the room quickly.

It took a vast effort not to smile or laugh at Lennox’s face. The man was doing whatever he could to control himself and his temper. He wasn’t pleased, but he couldn’t show it. Lennox, the open-minded man who liked to flirt with any breathing thing around him; who had just refused to answer a simple question to put his fiancée at ease.

His own behaviour was about to explode in his face, and the notion didn’t seem to thrill him so much.

“I canna believe you just did that,” he mumbled, still holding onto her arm.

“Did what?” She frowned, looking at him.

“Oh aye, sure,” he rolled his eyes and took one long sip of whisky to empty his drink.

“You said it yourself,” she kissed his cheek and quoted back to him.

“It’s only a game, love."


	8. Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd post this one day before schedule because after all, it's ready and I don't like y'all to wait! Thank you so so much for the constant support on this fic and your lovely comments (I have yet to get back to them but I will!). We're getting into my favourite bit in the story so I'm really excited to share those next chapters. Enjoy...
> 
> Be well xx

The dinner had been tense, to say the least. But it had truly gone awry when Alasdair passed around his little pouch of cocaine for everyone to enjoy. What followed was a messy evening, where jealousy, resentment, and anger brewed together — simmering dangerously to the surface until they all retired to their respective rooms, leaving the living room in a pitiful state. An untrained eye would have believed teenagers had been let loose here; not full-blown, so-called respectable adults.

Alasdair had laughed too loudly, joked inappropriately, and spilt alcohol all over himself. _Twice_.

Lennox had joined in, telling more of their boarding school anecdotes that amused no one but the two of them.

Tommy talked extensively of his time in Edinburgh, his birthplace. No one noticed how uncomfortable Claire was at the sheer mention of the city. Or the way she tensed, feeling the knot twist in her stomach. She thought no one noticed…

— someone had.

Sarah had been quiet in comparison to the others, rolling her eyes and pretending she was having a lovely time.

So had Elise, actually, in between when she longingly looked around the room for something, or someone, who wasn’t there. Once or twice, Claire had wondered if she was actually looking at her and not at Lennox.

That was rather puzzling. Maybe she simply had too much wine.

On the way to their bedroom, Lennox had been awfully quiet, which she was very thankful for. The last thing she needed was some type of remark about kissing Jamie earlier. The thought was dominating her mind enough already.

He was drunk and he was on drugs. Whenever that happened — whenever he went out with his stupid friends — he’d get home and collapse straight onto the bed. Sometimes, she was there to make sure he was covered. Other times, she was home in Oxford and thankfully didn’t have to witness the state he was in.

_“It’s only to take the edge off, you know,” he said once, buttoning his shirt in front of the mirror. “Al and Tommy do it.”_

_“If Alasdair and Tommy jump into the Thames, will you follow them?” she asked, raising her eyebrows, looking at him from the bed. She sounded like an annoyed mother schooling their eight-year-old._

_“Everybody does it, poppy.”_

— everybody does it.

Such a pathetic excuse it is. For anything. What was the intent behind it? Showing off what type of influenceable twat one was?

Everyone does it, so I will too, because I desperately need validation and a sense of belonging? _Was that it?_

These days, people — _rich people_ — talked about snorting cocaine as they talked about smoking a cigarette. Just a little sniff. _Once_. I’m tired, I’m too busy. I need this to get going. I won’t get addicted. I only do this when I’m partying.

Drugs were a form of escapism that Claire never resorted to. She didn’t like to lose control, to not be aware of her surroundings. She didn’t like doing things because other people did it too; quite the contrary. She didn’t see any point in it. But most importantly, compared to Lennox and his group of spoiled rich friends, she had no emptiness to soothe through artificial means.

She did occasionally wonder how she and Lennox had ended up together, let alone engaged.

They were vastly different from one another, that had been clear from the start — too much distance for it to actually work long term, she initially thought. She hadn’t sought anything more than a one-night stand with him. Or maybe a few months of fun. Neither had he.

When she had met him that first time she was a little bit tipsy and he looked rather dashing. He also kept looking at her, pretending to be too shy to come over. He hadn’t been too shy to rip her velvet dress from her body the second they had stepped into his townhouse. The sex was phenomenal; it always had been, which was a helpful component of their relationship.

The other benefit was her living in Oxford part-time. The excuses for needing time alone to work, to write, or to get some space whenever she simply needed time away from him. He never opposed it, instead, happy to have his own free time.

So what was it about Lennox Campbell? It wasn’t the money, she didn’t care about that. It was the charm, yes, but not only that. He made her laugh, okay. He wasn’t particularly intelligent, which wasn’t the worst thing, he wasn't completely stupid either.

He was a little bit messed up.

When he showed his vulnerability, he carried himself like a little boy or a wounded animal. He might come from a rich and large family, but he had never been very loved. His parents had sent him to boarding school as soon as he turned six, and had subjected him to a Victorian education whenever he was home. His father had never once told him that he loved him, and his mother was too busy to do anything but set impossible standards for him.

Just like Claire, he had simply looked for a home.

He had never wanted to settle down until he met her. The thrill of that discovery was part of the reason she was still drawn to him, she guessed. The pride of turning a self-proclaimed forever bachelor into a devoted fiancé who was head over heels for her. His words, not hers.

There was also the fact that she had met him at the right moment. Uncle Lambert, her only family, had passed three months earlier, and she was feeling alone. Scared, because of that goddamn stalker. She had no anchor left and, in some way, she had clung to the first lifeboat that presented itself to her. She had simply wanted to feel protected.

— safe.

Then, the notes stopped coming a month or two into their relationship, which she took as a good sign. Since then, she hadn’t received random phone calls in the middle of the night or anonymous gifts. Surely, the idea of Lennox was threatening enough to this person to leave her alone.

Safe, she had said so herself. Yes, she felt safe with him around. Except here. There was something about this island that unsettled her nerves. She had felt it as soon as she stepped foot on the ground, and the feeling only increased with each passing hour.

Two more days and she’d be home.

For now, she laid in bed, her eyes focused on the moonlit ceiling, her hands clasped together and resting on her stomach. She felt the bare finger of her left hand, trying to remember where she had put the remnants of the ring. _Was it her suitcase? Her make-up bag?_ She would swear she had left the wrapped tissue on the side of the bathroom sink, but she didn’t recall seeing it a moment ago.

Maybe Lennox had moved it? He had briefly gone in there to change; and given how drunk he was, he had probably moved things around. She’d ask him tomorrow.

His faint snoring was the only noise inside the room, save their unsynchronised breathing. Outside, the rain had stopped and the wind had subdued, the sky clearing to let the moon shine into their room.

It wasn’t very late, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the mess downstairs. She didn’t want Jamie to come down in the morning and have to clean it all by himself before making sure their breakfast was ready.

Slowly, she sat up and shot a look at her fiancé. He was sound asleep on his side, a few curls falling over his forehead and his mouth half-opened. She felt a certain tenderness towards him, a squeezing of her heart and a sudden feeling clutching at her throat.

_They would never have a happy ending, would they?_

She got up, shivering for a brief moment from the lack of layers. She made her way out of the room discreetly and waited a second to be sure she didn’t wake Len. The carpet was warm under her bare feet, and her pyjamas were beginning to warm her up as well as she continued walking through the big house.

The silence was strangely comforting, and the place was lit up by small lamps scattered all over. No one seemed to be out of their rooms though, and Claire found that to be a relief.

Once in the living room, she turned on the big light — just to make sure she was alone. That had become a customary habit, wherever she found herself. The room was empty, as messy as it was when they had left it.

Rolling her eyes at the sight, she decided to have a little talk with Lennox in the morning. This was someone’s estate, not a playground.

At least the plates had been cleared off, but the empty bottles laid scattered around — knocked onto the floor or tilted over on the dining table. A few half-empty drinks still laid on the coffee table, along with an ashtray full of cigarette butts.

It took twenty-odd minutes to gather everything into the same place somewhat cleanly. She made another mental point of getting up early to ask Jamie for a trash bag to put it all away. Maybe she could sneak in a conversation with the Scot and apologise for the game, too.

Claire moved to the window and stood there, enjoying the peacefulness. Living in between London and Oxford she had almost forgotten the sound of true silence. Looking out to the sea, she felt the air leave her lungs for a second. It was a gorgeous sight — quite breathtaking, actually. It made her wonder how something so beautiful could be so utterly terrifying and dangerous.

— dangerous, like the attraction she felt towards Jamie.

Absently, she touched her bottom lip; still faintly tingling from earlier. The memory of his kiss lingered like the thick fog over the sea, surrounding her.

Lost in her thoughts, Claire hadn’t noticed she wasn’t alone anymore. Nor had she heard the faint breathing coming from the door. She was unaware that someone had been watching her for several minutes on end. Observing her. Studying the way she stood and her reflection in the window.

Then, he approached, his own reflection appearing next to her.

The sight brought her back in an instant, like a bolt of lighting. She jumped and turned around, trying to control the way her body was reacting.

“Good Lord, Tommy,” she looked at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh,” his face softened and he smiled gently.

“I’m sorry, I didna mean to.” His accent had gotten thicker too since being here, the Edinburgh glint more prominent than usual.

“I saw a light on and I came to see who was awake, I didn’t think anyone was.”

“That’s what I had thought too. I couldn’t fall asleep, so I thought I’d clean up the mess we left for a little while.”

“I apologize for not showing up earlier to help then.” He rubbed his face and went to sit in an armchair. He had sobered up and, knowing him, he had drunk his body weight in water before going to bed to avoid a hangover come morning.

Yawning, he pulled his legs up and rested his head on his knees, “How long have ye been down here?”

“Thirty minutes, at best,” she shrugged, sitting in the armchair opposite his.

“Lennox was snoring too loudly,” she grinned and he laughed.

“Always had that problem,” he rolled his eyes. “Even at seven years old, what the hell?”

“Oh that’s right, you bunked together at boarding school,” she recalled, leaning back. The initial scare from his sudden appearance had passed and she relaxed, knowing she was in the presence of someone she knew. No one else was here to watch her from afar. No one else was here to scare her.

— if only she knew.

“Sometimes, I had nightmares so I’d sneak into his bed to wake him up, you ken?” He smiled at the memory.

“He would sleep like a rock, so unless I pulled him out of bed with the cover, he wouldn’t budge. Sometimes even falling onto the floor wouldn’t do the trick.”

“Not much has changed, then,” she grinned, hugging herself.

“How long has it been now? You two?” Tommy tilted his head, his eyes attentively watching her.

“Officially, it’s been almost two years. Unofficially, it’s been a few months more than that.”

“Time flies,” he smiled. “I feel like it was yesterday when we all met ye at that party. Remember ye met me first?”

Claire nodded, images of the party in question playing in her head, “Oh yeah, that’s right. You almost spilt your drink on me because you were not looking where you were going.”

“I was lookin’, actually,” he laughed softly. “I was just distracted by ye! Lennox’s parties didn’t often have sophisticated ladies hangin’ around.”

“I reckon,” she rolled her eyes at that. She had felt out of place at that party, that was true. But after meeting Tommy, she met Lennox, and the rest of the evening had been more than pleasant.

“I’m glad I introduced ye both,” he said, sounding sincere. Without the group around him, Tommy was actually a sweet guy who simply tried to belong with guys he admired and who, he thought, were cooler than him. It was quite sad behaviour past the age of twenty-five, but most men stay boys for a long time — sometimes for most of their lives.

“Did you really think it would get this serious between me and Lennox?” she asked, curious. Because frankly, she hadn’t thought so herself.

“Not right away, but then I noticed the way he was lookin’ at ye all evening, and I kinda knew there and then, aye.” He smirked proudly.

“I ken we can be a lot to hang out with, but we’re all glad ye make him so happy,” he added.

That, she wasn’t completely sure of, but she brushed the thoughts of Elise away from her mind. She didn’t like to think of her unless she had to.

She was about to find out she’d have to think about her.

“Ye’re good for him, Claire,” Tommy was serious now, his expression focused. He sat properly again and reached to squeeze her hand.

“Ye really are.”

The way he said this, the way he was looking at her, suddenly made her rather uncomfortable — like she was in a tiny room with walls enclosing on her.

“I’m glad you think so,” she smiled. Her best smile that she could attempt.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

She shook her head, “Not yet, we’ll do that once we’re back in London. But we’re thinking summer, for sure.”

“In Scotland?”

“Maybe, yes. I bet that’d be something Lennox would like,” she assumed. Truthfully, the topic of the wedding never came up beyond the price of the engagement ring.

“We’ll ask him tomorrow,” Tommy said and smiled. He was still holding onto her hand.

“Right,” she nodded and got up, “It’s getting late, I should get back upstairs and make sure he hasn’t rolled out of the bed.”

“Of course,” he nodded and smiled. “Goodnight, Claire.”

“Night,” she answered and walked out of the room, pretending she wasn’t in a hurry to get away. She felt his eyes on her the whole time and a shiver ran down her spine.

She let out her breath the moment she stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Resting against it, she closed her eyes and gathered herself. It wasn’t the time to have a panic attack. There was no reason to have one, either.

After a few seconds of deep breathing, she looked over at Lennox. He had raised his head from the bed, a sleepy expression plastered all over his face. He looked sweet.

“Poppy?” he called in a hoarse voice.

“Come here, it’s cold,” he patted the bed and opened his arms.

Smiling softly, she made her way towards him and got into bed. He spooned her, his arms tightly wrapped around her body and his nose nuzzled into her curls.

When he wanted, he could be so gentle, so sweet.

Claire relaxed against him and felt his breath thick against her neck, his heartbeat against her back. She closed her eyes and let both of these sensations soothe her.

She knew she wouldn’t drift back to sleep for a little while, but she felt better. So much so that she had forgotten to do something she always did. Something that assured her she’d be safe, wherever she was.

— she had forgotten to lock the door.


	9. diary entry - 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another diary entry...hopefully it helps you discover our culprit, hopefully not ;) Thank you so much for reading along. Like I said on Monday, the next part of this story is my favourite so I'm excited to share it with you all. In the meantime, a little build-up to it. 
> 
> Reading your comments and theories are so fun, please keep them coming! Be well xx

_Claire is on top, her hips circling gently in a steady motion. An infinite eight shape. Moonlit curls cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her head thrown back. Her lip freshly bitten._

_She looks eerie in the midst of abandon._

_Their breathing is hard and sparse. Sometimes, Claire leans down to kiss him before leaning back up again. Lennox can’t touch her. His hands are above his head, tied up to the bed. I can see just how focused on her face he is, how lusty his glance is. Claire, on the other hand, is shutting her eyes as if she were somewhere else completely._

_I can see all of this because I’m outside their bedroom door, kneeling and looking through the keyhole. Yes, to each their methods. I couldn’t have climbed onto their balcony, you know? It would have been a lot less discreet and it’s too fucking cold outside._

_I have a better view here, anyway._

_My eyes are focused on Claire — when aren’t they? I am a master at looking at her without being caught. Might it be daylight or darkness._

_I watch the way her body moves. The way her hips flex. The way goosebumps erupt onto her skin. The way her moans ripple down her lips, her voice hoarse. The way her fingers dig into his chest._

_She has no idea how tantalizing she looks. Not only like this, in the spur of pleasure, but just when she exists, doing nothing in particular. She doesn’t know how she attracts the eyes, how people stop to watch her, hoping to catch a glimpse of what it is that makes her so special. She doesn’t know and it only adds to the charm of it all. There is no pretence about Claire._

_I do wonder what goes on in her mind. What she’s thinking at this very moment — or who she’s thinking about, because I’m certain it’s not Lennox._

_No. He’s only there to be a vector to please, while she’s thinking about someone else._

_— his body is a mean to an end._

_I don’t mind that as long as they are together and they’ll be together forever. I’m making sure of it._

_He likes to be tied up. He has never told any of us, but it’s not the first time I’ve seen them together like this. He likes the loss of control, I reckon. Or what the torture of being unable to touch her does to him. Don’t ask me. I couldn’t not touch her if we were like this. It’s torture enough not to be able to touch her while being untied._

_I would run my hands over her skin, white as milk, shiny as pearl. I would dig my fingers into her flesh. Kiss every inch, each beauty mark and the little scar she has above her shoulder. I would run the tip of my fingers over her breast._

_Over her curves._

_Her curves could cut you._

_I know I shouldn’t be watching but I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, my eyes focused on her and her alone. My feet glued to the carpet. I’m thankful that the moon is so full, reflecting over her the way it is, as a small lightbulb. A glimmer in the darkness._

_— like Claire herself._

_I watch as she slows her mouvement and reaches to untie the silk ribbons from around Lennox’s wrists. She does it quickly, used to the task._

_Gently, she leans down and kisses him so tenderly I think he might break, like my heart. He wraps his arms around her waist, sitting up as their kisses deepen._

_For a moment, he pulls back and brushes a curl away from her face. Her hair used to be shorter in Edinburgh. The curls barely touched her shoulders, then. Now, they have loosened up and they fall just above her breast. Their chestnut colour hasn’t changed, though. There are shades of auburn when the sun hits it. There are exactly three white hairs. I counted them earlier._

_I can see the smile forming on his lips. I don’t think I have ever seen him smile quite like this before, and I’ve known the man a while. He can be sweet when he’s stripped of his ego, his money, and the people he wants to impress. That is exactly why Claire is so good for him._

_She grounds him, Lenny._

_He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve any of it. But since childhood, he’s been given things and privileges he doesn’t deserve. I couldn’t complain, I was the one who presented Claire to him on a silver platter. I was aware of exactly what I was doing. I had to share to keep her near._

_I can’t help but wonder if he is surprised by the way things turned out? There is no way he could have seen this coming. No, when he saw Claire the first time he simply believed she’d be good fun for a night, maybe a couple of them. He was probably the first surprised to have fallen for someone. Truth is, he had no chance against it from the start. I knew it, he knew it. Everyone who ever met Claire knew it._

_I wonder how she’d react if he died. I’ve thought about it once or twice. I’d comfort her, peeling away the sadness she would hide the relief behind. I’d hold her close, take care of her. I’d become her best friend, make myself needed until she would realise how thankful she was to have me. How she couldn’t do without me anymore._

_They’re done now, but they’re not moving._

_Claire is still on top of him, except now Lennox is sitting up. His arms wrapped around her waist, his face nuzzled into her neck._

_Her right hand is cradling his curls, her eyes are opened now. Looking out the window, lost in her thoughts._

_Lennox kisses her shoulder, whispers something into her ear. Somehow, it makes her smile and she kisses the top of his head._

_Whenever I watch them, but now, in particular, there is a feeling brewing in my stomach. A mixture of longing and jealousy I have no one else but myself to blame for. I wonder what he has that I don’t. What he does to keep her with him when he could have blown it so many times. When I’m here to give her all the love she needs, and even more._

_Usually, I can tame the feeling, keep it at bay. But since coming here, it has come out barging into my bloodstream. Intoxicating me._

_— it’s this island, I’m sure of it. It started when I arrived._

_I can feel the isolation roaring inside of me. Clutching to me so hard, I might faint._

_My hands are clutching so hard that my knuckles are turning white. There is a small rage creeping to the surface, blowing inside my chest with each passing second._

_I know it is the sight in front of me. The sight of them like this. Quietly holding one another, gently comforting the other. I’ve never really seen them this way. It’s the first time I see real tenderness, and it makes sense. I simply wish it didn’t._

_It took about fifteen minutes before they finally succumbed to slumber._

_Their naked bodies pressed together like spoons. Lennox the bigger one, his arms wrapped around her. His chin on her shoulders._

_I walked into the room quietly, the carpet under my feet giving no indication of my presence. I don’t know how long I stood by the end of the bed. My eyes just looking at her, studying her features I knew by heart already._

_I noticed a beauty mark on her arm, then another, and a smaller one. Together they could be a triangle if someone decided to connect them with a pen. I would do that, and she’d laugh._

_My eyes travel up once more, fixed onto her face. She seems peaceful. She doesn’t like to sleep that much. Probably because she feels like she’s not in control of what is happening around her and I guess her time in Edinburgh is at fault for this._

_I should apologize about that, sometime. I can’t blame her._

_I wonder what she is dreaming about. I think I have a faint idea and I don’t appreciate it. It gives me a nauseating feeling in the deep of my stomach._

_I’ve seen the way she’s looked at the estate manager. What was his name again? James? Jamie. Yeah, him. The tall redhead._

_I saw the way a small hint of pleasure passed through her eyes just before she had kissed him. The way her lips opened to welcome his tongue. The way his hands pressed her closer. She had not been put off by the dare at all._

_Neither had he, not that I could blame him._

_I was certain it was him she was dreaming about now, her lip flicked up into a smile. It was him she thought about when riding Lennox just minutes ago. I was sure it was his name she wanted to cry out when her climax came._

_Imagining the way his hands would feel on her._

_It was his lips she wanted to kiss, his body she wanted to grip._

_I wonder if Lennox knows it too? Feels it? Is he that oblivious? Is he so egotistical he can’t see the way his fiancée is looking at another man like he just hung the moon? I reckon he must be._

_Or perhaps not._

_He didn’t seem too pleased by the kiss, but after drinking so much and powdering his nostrils, he forgot that even happened. After all, it was him in her bed. It was his name she cried out._

_Not Jamie’s._

_Not mine._

_— it would be Lennox forever._

_Or at least until death did them part._


	10. Conversations in The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I'm so excited to share this chapter cause it is one of my favourites in the story and I cannot wait to see what you think of it. So yes, at last, a few answers! (Or at least, one...)
> 
> Thank you for reading and be well xx

Claire was a light sleeper — always alert to the faintest of noises and the lightest sounds of activity around her. However, neither of those things woke her up this time.

_It was the feeling of being watched._

Panic gripped her throat and her eyes opened at once, taking a second to get used to the dark of the room.

The moon was still bright and she could see the outlines of things around them. The furniture, the windows, the fireplace…but nothing else.

— no one was in the room watching them. It was ridiculous to even think such a thing possible. She could swear she had locked the door earlier.

She had been asleep for thirty minutes at best. Lennox was slumped against her, his arm wrapped around her waist and his warm body pressed to her back. The door was closed and the only sounds in the room were the wind blowing outside and their breathing. His was slow and steady, while hers was harsher, coming out sparsely as she tried to relax.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she laid on her back and did her breathing exercise. Whenever she was afraid, whenever she began to feel herself panic, she would do this to calm down.

Everything is fine, she repeated to herself silently before counting to ten and taking a breath. Repeating the process for minutes on end. Over and over again.

Once her anxiety subsided, Claire sat up slowly and looked down at a sleeping Lennox. She contemplated waking him up, but decided against it. It would take too long trying to bring him out of slumber anyway. He slept like a rock.

She needed a stiff drink and decided to go look for one.

Getting up, she grabbed her pyjamas from the floor and put them back on. She covered Lennox properly and grabbed the other plaid to wrap around her shoulders. The chill followed her outside, where the hall was still dark and silent. It continued to cling to her skin as she made her way down the stairs, where she had been earlier in the evening.

The place smelled of woodfire, mixed with the scent of the sauté vegetables they’d had for dinner. It was comforting, bringing warmth to the vastness of the house.

Her feet took her to the kitchen, the only room in the house where the light was on. She could hear the sound of someone moving around in there, and she didn’t need to see who it was to know that it was Jamie.

The Scot was standing by the stove, stirring a spoon in a saucepan full of milk. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt that she had deduced was his version of a pyjama set.

“Can’t sleep?” She heard herself ask, watching him.

Jamie turned around, slightly surprised to see her. He smiled, “Nay, I’ve never been a good sleeper, actually.”

“Welcome to the club,” she smiled and pulled the plaid closer to her, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she was standing in front of him in her silk pyjamas.

“Would ye like some warm milk wi’ cinnamon? I find that it helps me,” he pointed to the pan.

“Sure, yes,” she nodded and walked further into the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon hanging thick in the air around them.

Claire sat on one of the highchairs against the countertop and observed Jamie as he picked up two mugs from one of the cupboards in front of him. Her eyes lingered a tad too long on his bare, toned arms, visible to her for the first time today. She recalled the way they felt wrapped around her, pressing her close, and she felt herself blushing. Then she remembered the kiss and how it made her feel, and she blushed some more.

“Ye dinna have to clean up the dining room, ye know?” He looked at her and smiled, holding out a mug.

“Careful, ‘tis hot.”

Carefully, she took the mug from him and warmed her palms, “It’s the least I could have done, Jamie. I’m sorry for the mess we made.”

“Dinna be,” he sat in front of her with his own drink. “I’m used to people rentin’ this place to party all weekend.”

“Have you dealt with worse than our group?” she grinned, raising her eyebrow.

“Ye’d be surprised,” he chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“This is your family home, isn’t it?” she asked, blowing into her drink.

He nodded, “‘Tis been in the family for generations, aye. I’ve remodelled a bit, but I tried to keep some of the original features and all.”

“Well it is lovely,” she smiled and took another sip of her drink. “And dinner was marvellous, too.”

“I canna take credit for that, I’m just lucky Josef is such a good cook,” Jamie’s left eye closed briefly, then his right, which she took as a sign of a wink. An extremely odd but sweet wink, nonetheless.

She hid her smile in the mug, “Oh, well, given that I can’t cook, I should hire a chef.”

“‘Tis convenient,” he admitted, watching her.

“Ye’re a writer, aye?”

“Is that really a question, or do you already know the answer?” She leaned back, rolling the mug in between her palms. She couldn’t help but smile at his sudden shyness. She bit her lower lip to stop the tingling, thinking of what his mouth did to her.

“Nay, I ken the answer,” he admitted. “I’ve read a couple of yer books too.”

“And what did you think of them?”

“They’re no’ for the faint of heart, I will admit to that, but they’re verra entertainin’ and verra well written,” he smiled, and she laughed softly.

“No, indeed, they’re not for the faint of heart. I guess I have to exorcise my demons somewhere.”

“Do ye have a lot of demons, Claire?” His blue eyes locked with hers, and her mouth suddenly went dry.

“I suppose I do, yes…don’t we all?” She held the mug closer to her, not taking her eyes away from him.

He nodded silently and smiled softly, “Aye, I reckon we do.”

“I do read a lot of romance to counterbalance the gory writing,” she added, smirking.

“I’m reassured then,” he grinned and poured some more warm milk into both of their mugs.

“Were you born in Orkney?” she inquired, enjoying the stillness of the house, along with his company. He felt like an old friend.

“I was. We used to live on the mainland and only came over here for the weekends or holidays, wi’ my parents. I moved here permanently a couple of years ago to start the business.”

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

“Almost,” his smile faded.

“I spent a couple of years away because of my father’s job when we were children, my sister and I. A year or two, I canna recall properly, I was verra young.”

“Oh, where then?” She could tell the subject wasn’t particularly something he wanted to dwell on, but she felt an urgency to know.

“England, somewhere in the south.” He took a sip of milk.

“I’m an orphan,” she said softly. It wasn’t information she liked to divulge; it was too often that people would stare at her in response, trying to look like they actually felt sorry for her when in fact it was unfiltered pity dominating their faces. But looking at the Scot sitting in front of her, she saw none of that.

“I’m sorry to hear so, Claire,” he reached to touch her hand gently. It was warm against her own, the skin soft.

“I’m sorry,” she frowned, “I don’t know what compelled me to tell you that.”

“Dinna fash,” he squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly.

“I lost my mam when I was six. Ye dinna ken how to process the grief at that age, but it never leaves ye. And ye wish so bad ye could remember everything but ye were so young, it’s no’ possible —”

“So you hang onto your faint memories and pictures,” she finished and he nodded.

“Aye,” he squeezed her hand again.

The death of her parents wasn’t something she often talked about. Not many people knew, either, except for her oldest friends and Lennox. It wasn’t something she hid behind, using it as a defensive armour for everyone to see. It was a hidden wound that took years to stop bleeding, one that would never fully heal. She had accepted it a long time ago, but it always felt like a small relief to be able to talk about it with someone who understood.

“You know…” she hesitated but looked up at him once more. “I’m sorry about earlier. Their dumb little game they pulled you into. You really didn’t have to stay.”

“Twasn’t yer fault. I didn’t mind after all, I could have been part of a worse dare,” his lip flicked up into a soft smile.

She blushed furiously and hoped it wasn’t too visible in the subdued lighting. In truth, she didn’t mind either…which wasn’t something she felt particularly guilty about; except for that other feeling she experienced when he was near. She shouldn’t be thinking about another man this way; and yet, she had been ever since they met earlier that day.

— she had thought about him in the shower.

— she had thought about him when she was in bed with Lennox.

— she thought about him all the goddamn time.

“Well, anyway,” she cleared her throat and finished her milk. “Thank you for being a good sport. They can be quite a lot.”

“Aye, it seems like,” he said, his smile disappearing, his eyes darkening.

“Are they really yer friends?” His question was tentative but clear. She felt like he knew the answer already, it being plastered all over her face since she arrived.

“They’re my fiancé’s best friends, so by definition, they are my friends too.”

“That is a very diplomatic answer,” he leaned his head against his palm and smiled.

“I suppose it is, but it’s the truth.” Claire shrugged and managed a smile.

“Is it?” He tilted his head, studying her carefully, though his tone wasn’t at all accusatory. “One has to be civil, really. I’m not particularly keen on them, they’re loud and obnoxious snobs. They like to make fun of me because I’m English while they all live in England anyway, and they barely tolerate me.”

“We have nothing in common except for Lennox, and when you love somebody, you compromise. We all do for his sake.”

“Do ye have things in common wi’ yer fiancé?” He got up and didn’t look at her when he asked this. Instead, he gathered the empty cups and put them in the sink.

No, we don’t, she wanted to answer.

“Of course I do,” she answered instead. Her voice wasn’t even convincing to herself.

“Why are you asking me all of this?” She got up in turn and went to stand by the sink, looking at him washing the cups.

“I’m curious is all,” he cast her one quick glance. “I find myself to be rather curious about ye, Claire.”

Her body tensed. His wet hands rested on the edge of the ceramic sink. They looked at one another for a long moment. Eyes locked. Silence.

“There is nothing to be curious about, really,” she finally said, taking a step back and feeling the counter press against her back.

“I’m only plain Claire Beauchamp.”

Shaking his head, Jamie dried his hand on a towel and looked at her again, “Ye’re anythin’ but plain.”

They stood close together, bodies angled towards one another. Warmth emanated from him, calling to her. Pulling her in like a magnet. She thought back to the kiss, felt her mouth tingle once more.

This time, however, unlike a few minutes ago, she was unable to resist.

She leaned up and brushed her lips against his. Gently. Tentatively.

She felt his body tense for a brief second. So briefly, she wondered if it had even happened at all, before he relaxed and answered her call.

The kiss deepened, his hands resting on her hips. Her mind was blank, forgetting about where she was, who she was supposed to be with, and who else was sleeping upstairs. She should be stopping this, but her mouth did nothing but kiss him.

_— it was so wrong, but it felt so right._

Then, she remembered the feeling of being watched. Wherever she was, wherever she was going, the feeling was always there and she was certain someone was always looking at her.

She pulled away from him, her breath short and her cheeks hot. She placed her hand, now deprived of the engagement ring, onto his chest and shook her head slowly, “I can’t do this…I’m sorry.”

“Aye,” he whispered, cupping her cheek. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I should go back to bed, it’s late,” she bit her lip and pulled away from him, hurrying towards the door.

“Claire, wait,” he grabbed her hand and she stopped.

Looking down at their hands, she was stricken by how much gentler his grip was compared to Lennox’s. He was holding her firmly without hurting her at all. She noticed her hand was shaking, but didn’t try to stop it. She had no will to take her hand away from his.

“Ye were right abou’ us meeting once before,” he said softly, his eyes wary.

Frowning, she saw the words swirl around in her brain, unable to comprehend at first. Until realisation hit her like a brick.

“It’s you.” It sounded like she was spitting out venom, pulling her hand away at once. “Since Edinburgh, it was you all this time.”

A sickness engulfed her for a moment — just for a second — before she saw his face and the way it had crumbled under the interrogation.

“Edinburgh?” He frowned, “What are ye talking about, Claire?”

“We didna meet in Scotland.” He took a step closer, touching her arm in reassurance. It seemed that his face had softened at her apparent distress — a distress whose source was unknown to him.

His words calmed her down at once. It was all in her head. It always had been. What were the chances she’d stumbled upon the person who had stalked her up until recently? They amounted to zero, and she knew it.

“I’m sorry, what?” She was still slightly confused. It was late, she had been awake for too long, and the day had been both physically and emotionally draining. Her brain went through all the mental files to try and recall where they had met. She believed him when he told her so, she simply needed to pinpoint when it had happened.

“We met in England,” he finally said, his blue eyes darkening; as if he was recalling a painful memory.

It took a moment, and she studied his features one by one until she stopped at a scar on his temple. It was faded but noticeable now that his curls were out of the way. It was there, andshe finally remembered when exactly they had met.

Before she could say a word, he spoke.

“We were only bairns, aye,” he nodded, running his hand against his arm like a nervous tick. “Seven or eight, at most.”

“It’s you,” she whispered, touching his cheek.

“Ye saved me that day, Claire,” he put his hand on hers, engulfing her. “Without ye, I would have drowned and died, but ye pulled me out of the water.”

“But —” she frowned, another realisation coming on. One that prompted a shiver down her spine, feeling like a piece of steel had sunken in her stomach.

“You are the accident Lennox and Alasdair were talking about, aren’t you? The one at boarding school.” She leaned against the counter again, her head spinning.

“Aye, and ye were the one who saved me,” he repeated once more, his voice still low.

“But they dinna ken that. I wasna even verra sure at first, until I saw ye this morning.”

“Wait,” she pulled her hands from him again. Her mouth was dry and tasted of iron.

“This is why we’re here? Is this some sort of ruse to lure Lennox in and steal his fiancée?” She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t believe it really, but she didn’t know this guy’s intentions. He was still a stranger; simply a familiar one.

“No, of course not,” he said sincerely.

“When I saw his name on the email, I kent it was him, but I had no idea he’d bring ye. Aye, yer name caught my eyes there too, but what were the chances? I shouldn’t have approved the booking but the feeling inside of me was too strong…I canna explain why, I just had to see him.”

“I was sure he wouldna recognize me, I’m no’ exactly the frail lad they knew at boarding school anymore. And I was right, they seem to have no idea.”

“I promise ye I had no other motive for this,” he took her hands in his, holding them gently. “I swear to ye, Claire.”

“What do you expect of me now?” She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore how heavy her eyelids were starting to feel. It was so late; this was too much to register. She had dreamt about the accident so many times. She had seen his face so often. How pale he was and how blue his lips were. She remembered how she thought he was dead before he finally let out a cough full of water.

For so long, she had cursed the ones who had done this. How cruel they were. How disgusting it all was. After a while, she had learned what had happened, but she never learned any of their names. Now, she had to come to terms with the fact that the person who was responsible for this — the faceless person she hated — was, in fact, her fiancé.

“I dinna expect anythin’ from ye.”

“I won’t tell him,” she said before he could ask. “I promise you I won’t. But I don’t know how I’ll be able to act around him, and you, knowing this now.”

“I’m sorry, I truly am. I never planned on tellin’ ye, I didna think ye’d recognize me either, if that was really ye. But then ye asked me if we’d met before and I didna ken what to do.”

“I really have to go back to bed,” she let go of his hands.

“Claire, one more thing.” Jamie stood there, not wanting to let her go just yet but knowing he had to.

“Ye saved me from drowning once. Let me do the same for ye.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, but she already knew.

“Dinna do anythin’ ye might regret someday, that’s all I’m askin’ ye.”

With that final word, Jamie disappeared from the kitchen, leaving her there. She had been engulfed by a wave of feelings just as powerful as the physical ones that had almost taken his life all those years ago. 


	11. Memories of Years Passed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished writing all the remaining chapters of this so I thought I'd start posting once every two days, how does that sound? Have a lovely week and be well xx 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> TW/ Almost drowning.

_Claire was bored._

_She was tired of parading around the little cottage alone while her uncle worked on his research or typed away for his new book of essays about said research. It had been like this for the past two weeks since they arrived in Devon._

_She had read all the books she brought with her already. Twice. And it was too cold and rainy to venture to the beach today._

_Laying on the carpet in her small bedroom, she stared at the ceiling and counted to ten. Then to thirty. Then to fifty._

_Sighing, she got up at once, curls bouncing on her head. It was barely eight, but she had been awake for hours already. Ideas swirling left and right. She liked to write short stories about the trips she took with her uncle Lambert, creating various characters; sometimes based on the people they met, and sometimes not._

_She had made her mind up to become a novelist one day. Uncle Lamb said she’d be terrific._

_Claire grabbed her chunky sweater and the knitted scarf she got for Christmas last December and walked out of the room. She could hear her uncle typing away on his trusty typewriter — he called it Jane, though why? She didn’t know._

_He wouldn’t mind her going out, but she’d rather tell him before he’d get worried about not seeing her at the breakfast table._

_Quietly, she stood by the office door and knocked, her small hand barely making a sound._

_Lambert peeled his eyes away from his paper and turned around to look at his niece, a smile breaking and illuminating his face, “Hello there, crumpet. Already up?”_

_Nodding, she smiled, “Can I go collect some shells on the beach before breakfast, please?”_

_“Now, love?” He frowned, looking at the weather outside. It was dreadful, she loved it._

_“I won’t be long, I promise,” she swore and begged him with her little golden eyes. “Please? I want to write about shells.”_

_“If it’s for writing research, then you may go,” he winked and turned his chair around to face her. “But first.”_

_Lamb opened his arms wide and she giggled, running into them for a bear hug._

_He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head, “Be good, okay? I don’t want you to go too near the water, and promise me you’ll be back in thirty minutes? I’ll make waffles.”_

_“I’ll be back in thirty minutes, Uncle Lamb,” she smiled widely and squeezed him before worming out of his arms._

_“Oy, captain?” He called and handed her a small bucket. “Bring me back a shell or two, would you?”_

_“I will!” She grabbed it and ran out of the office, pleased that her uncle normally agreed to whatever she fancied doing._

_It was fun to live with him. They travelled all the time, he had a big library back home in Oxford, and he always brought more books for her to read. He even wrote his own; though they were academic and she barely understood what he wrote, she liked looking at the little drawings his friend Louis did to illustrate them._

_Lamb agreed to keep her with him when she refused to go to boarding school. He made the best breakfasts and never minded that she stayed up too late to read. However, she stopped doing that as often when she realized she couldn’t wake up in the mornings._

_She missed her parents all the time, but she understood there was nothing that would bring them back. Not the crying, not the prayers, nothing. So she decided to be a good girl and be thankful for the time with her uncle, who was like a live-in best friend._

_Claire looked up as she stepped outside the cottage and opened her mouth to taste the rain, one eye closed because of how bright the white sky was. She concluded that snow was better, and pulled on her scarf before making her way to the beach._

_It only took a minute from their house so she took her time, collecting rocks and flowers along the pathway. The rain wasn’t too bad, only an insistent mist that made her curls puff some more. She should have taken her hat, but she didn’t like hats and her current one was bright yellow and very ugly._

_It was very cold this morning, and the wind felt like spikes against her cheeks, but she had no plans on turning back. The cold would only make the warmth of returning home, that much better. She was looking forward to the hot chocolate she’d have for breakfast later, along with the waffles. And syrup. Definitely syrup._

_Claire continued to walk along the pathway, bucket in hand. She hummed to herself, trying to block the noise of the wind. She could see the tide and how wild the waves were today. Swimming was fun; she contemplated it for a minute before deciding against it. Uncle Lamb had warned her about hypothermia, it didn’t sound very pleasant._

_Sitting on one of the rocks, her legs propped up, she rested her chin on her knee and looked at the horizon. The fog was too thick to see what lay beyond, but she imagined a magical island full of fairies hiding from the world and smiled at the thought. She imagined herself living there alone with the fairies, writing stories about them._

_— the same stories her mother used to read to her at night. She had been a wonderful storyteller, her mother. Thankfully, Lambert was too._

_Claire picked up a few shells around her, along with some white rocks. Then, she decided to get up again to explore some more._

_Uncle Lambert had said thirty minutes, but it was too cold to stay outside that long. She’d get home as soon as she gathered more shells to study._

_The feel of the damp sand was funny under her wellies. It felt like walking on one big wet biscuit, and she felt like laughing; which she did, the sound resonating throughout the big and empty beach._

_Along the way, she picked up various other shells. One looked like an iridescent coffee bean. Another like a horn, with brown dots scattered all over it. Some were snake-shaped, sort of. She had no idea what they were called, but certainly, Uncle Lamb would have a fancy name for each type._

_There was a small boat near the cove. It was white with a red stripe on its side but it didn’t seem to have been used recently. A seagull sat patiently on its roof, waiting for God knows what. She decided to call it Toffee._

_She was standing behind a rock when she heard their laughter._

_High pitched._

_Mean._

_They sounded so pleased with themselves, it made her uncomfortable._

_For a moment, she did not move. Frozen into place, hiding from something, but she didn’t know what exactly. Claire wasn’t easily frightened, except when it was dark, but her uncle promised it would get better with age._

_The laughter continued._

_She had to see what was happening._

_She left her bucket and gripped the rock, lifting her head just enough to see what was happening. Her hair was so dark that no one would have been able to see her there. Or, at least, she hoped._

_She saw a group of boys around her age, maybe a year or two older, in a circle, looking down at something. Someone?_

_Frowning, she tried to see more clearly. She hadn’t brought her glasses, and her eyesight from afar wasn’t great. That was something that wouldn’t get better with age, her uncle had told her._

_“Is it tight enough?” One of the boys asked the taller one, looking around to make sure they were alone. They were hidden by the cove but anyone could have walked on the beach and seen them. They didn’t seem to want that, though._

_“Aye.” The other answered in a Scottish accent. He was kneeling down, checking on what they had brought here. He had the darkest curls. Black. And eyes that were the exact same colour, with no white irises, which was slightly frightening._

_“Tight as it can be,” he said proudly, getting up again._

_“Alright lad,” the third one stepped in and kneeling down. “The tide is coming. If you can extract yourself from this, you win. If not? It’s not our problem.”_

_They laughed together and the smallest of the bunch pulled at the dark-haired one’s sleeve, “Come on! We have to get back before they realise we’re not in our beds.”_

_“Tommy, relax!” He rolled his eyes and wiped the rain off his forehead. “We’re leaving Fraser here and we’ll be back there in five minutes, tops. Right, Al?”_

_“Aye, not even five minutes.” The third nodded and kicked the thing at their feet._

_It was only then that Claire realised she was looking at a body, head covered by a piece of fabric. Panic crept up quickly in her; so quickly that she didn’t know what to do, where to go. She was frozen, not even able to scream to scare them away._

_When she looked again, they were carrying the body to the water. Apparently, waiting for the tide had not been enough. They wanted to make sure he couldn’t get away fast enough._

_Whoever was tied up tried to move, his sounds muffled up by the fabric over his head._

_Then, the sound of the weight hitting the water thundered in the air. Her ears rang. It was a sound that would haunt her for so long afterwards._

_The laughs receded, the boys disappeared as quickly as they had arrived._

_Without thinking further, she ran towards the water. It was cold. Freezing. Her limbs felt like glass about to shatter._

_She could barely see, she could barely breathe. She wasn’t too sure running here was smart to do, but that had been what she thought of immediately. The saltwater was stinging her eyes, choking her throat by way of her nostrils. She tried to recall what Uncle Lamb had said about hypothermia and how long it took to sink into her bones._

_She took a long breath and sank underwater. Opening her eyes, she could barely see anything. The water was too dark to notice anything more than the rays of light coming from above. She wanted to scream and cry, but neither would be very useful here and now._

_Then, she saw something. A glimmer of red near her, and two blue eyes opened wide._

To this day, Claire doesn’t know how she was able to swim all the way to the little boy. She can’t remember how she managed to pull them both out of the water, the weight of his clothes and hers clinging like anchors, pulling her down each time she tried to make it closer to the shore. She had no memory of what happened between jumping into the water and dragging the boy to shore.

_Her limbs felt like steel, unable to bend. There was sand in her eyes, in her ears, and in her mouth. Everything hurt, which meant she couldn’t be dead because Uncle Lamb explained that when one died, one couldn’t feel pain anymore._

_Crawling towards the body next to her, she noticed the way his legs and arms were tied. There would have been no way he could have freed himself to swim out of the water, even less of a chance in water this cold._

_His eyes were closed, he wasn’t moving. His lips were purple and his skin so pale it was almost translucent._

_Oh God._

_Oh God, he was dead, wasn’t he?_

_Claire felt tears run down her cheeks, warm against her ice cold skin. She untied his hands and his feet, sobbing. He had red marks around his wrists, and nothing came out of his mouth when she put her ear there to see._

_“Wake up,” she whispered and shook him gently._

_“Please,” she croaked out, her voice suddenly sounding so faint._

_“Come on,” she shook him again and kissed his cheek. “Here. That makes it better, yes? You can wake up now.”_

_“Claire!” Uncle Lambert’s voice brought her back and she looked at him running towards her._

_Before she knew it, he was pulling her away from the little boy and she wasn’t strong enough to resist his grip. From somewhere unknown a group of people arrived, hurrying towards the boy._

_Her vision was blurry with tears; she didn’t want to get away from him._

_“No! Let me go back to him,” she cried, trying to free herself from her uncle’s tight grip. She kicked her legs in the air and hit his arms, “Please!”_

_“Claire, you can’t,” he held her close, walking away from the shore. She kicked his legs, his arms; all she wanted was to break away and run to the little boy. But everything was still so heavy against her damp clothes._

_Then the sight of the boy receded, his fiery hair fading away, his small body surrounded by people while Claire was taken away. Back to the cottage._

_The last thing she remembered seeing were two eyes looking at her. Shining as blue as the sea._

It had been twenty-odd years now and until this evening, she didn’t know what had happened to the boy, nor what his name was.

Her uncle assured her he was alive and well, thanks to her, but she had never had any proof. She didn’t remember the days that followed the incident, either. She had fallen ill with a fever from the cold and slept most of the time. The rest of the hours, she stared at the sea out the window and shivered.

For many years, it was a recurring nightmare. She would see his face, she would hurry into the water, but they would both drown.

Now that she knew he had been alive all this time, something lifted from her shoulders. But it was quickly replaced by another weight. The very boys she had hated with all her being for doing this were now her fiancé and his friends.

Their talk of the so-called accident earlier came back to her, the words ringing in her ears.

_“Nay, I wouldn’t call it an accident, really. Just a lad being too stupid to free himself from the game.”_

_“He was always a little wimp, that one. Afraid of his own shadow and all,” Alasdair chuckled into his glass._

_“To free himself from what?” Claire ignored him and kept looking at Lennox, her eyebrows raised this time._

_“Nothing, don’t fash yourself over it,” he smiled and kissed her cheek. “It was years ago, the lad wasn’t injured. Stupid school games.”_

— stupid school games.

Only it had not been a game at all. It had been deliberate. A cruel joke, one might say, but the term joke was too light for what they had attempted to do.

It had nothing to do with Jamie not being able to swim. Even the best swimmers would have drowned in such a cold water, with hands and legs tied that way. If Claire had not been there, if she had not seen them, he would have died and no one would have been able to recover his little body.

A nauseous feeling came over her, prompting her to sit down on the stool again.

She was alone in the kitchen; though the house wasn’t empty, she felt lonely. Burdened by the knowledge of things, and confused about what to do with Lennox amidst this new discovery.

It was only an hour later that she managed to walk the stairs up to the bedroom again. Lennox would be asleep, but she would have to face him at some point. She would have to face all of them.

Claire wanted to run away from the island. To disappear and never have to lay eyes on any of them again- but it was impossible. It was the middle of the night now, and the water was too rough to let any boat reach this place, at least until the afternoon. She would have to wait.

— she would have to pretend, like she pretended so many times before in their company.

Reaching the bedroom, she hesitated a moment before opening the door. She counted to ten. Then to thirty. Then to fifty. Turning the doorknob softly, she let herself in.

It was darker than when she left, the moon now hidden by the clouds. The room smelled of them, and it made her sick.

It was only when her eyes focused on the bed that she realised something was amiss

— the bed was empty.

— the bathroom was dark.

Where the hell was Lennox?

Frowning, she looked around the room and decided to sit on the bed. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He would probably come back at some point. Maybe he went downstairs for a drink too? Or he went looking for her? The house was so big, they could have easily missed one another.

But she was sure that neither of those were the case. It was only then that she realised something.

The sense of dread she had been carrying around since stepping foot on this island earlier had finally sunk in.

She didn’t feel safe here.

She didn’t feel safe with any of them.


	12. Morning Dew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I've said once every two days updates but there's an election coming tomorrow and no one would have time to read so one day early, I'm sure you won't mind. I can't wait to read your reaction to this chapter...
> 
> Be well and thank you for reading xx

Claire didn’t recall dozing off and couldn’t remember when she had succumbed to slumber. She didn’t know exactly how long she had been sleeping, either. But when she woke up, the day had risen, but not the sun. It was hidden behind grey clouds, away from the wind and the mist.

Her head was throbbing, the headache pushing against her temples and pressing behind her eyelids. She was cold, half-covered by a plaid. She felt hungover, though she had been the only one last night who had not touched drugs or alcohol.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Lennox wasn’t in bed. Had he come back at all? Where the hell had he been last night? She tried to cling to some kind of internal need for the answers to those questions, but realised she simply couldn’t. She still felt sickened by Jamie’s revelations, and she didn’t quite know how she would handle seeing Lennox, Tommy, and Alasdair when she’d inevitably have to.

Memories of that day played back, over and over again. She could still feel the freezing water trying to break through her skin. The sand rooted in her throat. The way her eyes hurt from the saltwater. She heard their piercing little laughs before they threw Jamie into the water and fled the beach.

Turning on her side, she shut her eyes again, shielding their delicate irises from the light while pushing those images away from her mind. She could stay in here all day and all night until tomorrow morning, when the boat would be here to pick them up. Then, she’d return to Oxford and break away from those people. From Lennox, too. But the thought of leaving the island, of leaving Jamie, suddenly caused a sharp pain in her chest. She didn’t want to leave this place just yet.

— she just wanted the gang to go.

Claire realised the shower was on and decided to flee the room before Lennox had time to come out of the bathroom. She gathered the courage to strip the plaid away from herself, shivering as she got up. Quickly, she changed into the first clothes she found — a pair of jeans and a thick Fair Isle sweater — and left the room.

She caught her reflection in the mirror: a dreadful sight looking back at her. She not only felt tired; she looked it, too. She noticed Len’s wellies by the door, which seemed to have been used quite recently, and deduced he had gone for a walk at some point. Rolling her eyes, she silently cursed him for not leaving them in the hall downstairs, where a place had been specifically designated to house dirty boots.

Her hair was loose and over her shoulders as she walked quietly out of the room and made her way through the hall.

The house was also quiet. She reckoned that nobody was planning on going down for breakfast early after the evening they had had. There was a slight ease at the realisation that she didn’t have to see anyone just yet. She needed to think, to focus, and to decide what else she’d be doing with her time here until she could go back to Oxford.

She noticed it wasn’t raining and decided to go on a walk. She had been here a day and had barely looked around the estate at all. It was a good excuse to clear her mind, too. Walks always helped.

She grabbed her Barbour jacket by the front door and put on her wellies quickly, making sure to look around to see if anybody was approaching.

Opening the heavy wooden door, she was engulfed by the cold wind at once; blowing her curls in various directions, the sound of it deafening in her ears. Blowing. Pressing. She took a step out of the house and released a breath. A walk in the wind wasn’t the most pleasant thing, but it was more appealing than having to see Lennox or one of his stupid friends.

Claire started to walk slowly, hands deep inside her pockets and nose buried into her woollen scarf. Her mind was hazy. Anytime she tried to conjure a thought, it was as if she was trying to read something from afar without glasses or contacts on. The only thing she wished for was to be able to call her uncle and tell him everything. Ask for his advice and listen to his wise words. How much it broke her heart not to be able to do so.

She missed Lamb deeply. She missed his reassuring presence and hugs; the way he encouraged whatever she did and the way he let her exist as her own person. He had never tried to impose a belief on her, or deny her any opinions she might have on various topics. He knew what she was capable of doing, and he made sure he gave her whatever she needed to achieve what she had set her mind onto.

When he died, it felt like something had been stripped away from her at once, without any warning signs or time to prepare. She had even spoken to him that morning over the phone. He sounded in good spirits, about to go give a lecture at Cambridge. He had promised her he’d come down to Oxford on the weekend to catch up. He had promised her he’d been taking his vitamins and that he wasn’t overworking himself.

He had a heart attack a few minutes after the call. She would never hear his voice again.

The thought of her uncle prompted stinging tears in her eyes, burning against the wind. It was her grief and her sadness that let her fall into Lennox’s arms so easily. Looking for an escape, a distraction from the pain. Which it had been, for that first night. Then, she had been flattered by the attention he had for her, and one thing led to another. Now, she found herself engaged to the biggest piece of garbage there was.

Making her way down to the beach, she sat on the nearest rock and stared at the horizon. There wasn’t much of a fog compared to the one yesterday morning, but there was nothing to see beyond water. It was the first time in her life that she felt truly alone. Usually, loneliness wasn’t a burden on her — it was a steady companion she could carry with her everywhere and find solace in. Not today.

Today, it was heavy, crushing its weight against her ribcage in an attempt to snap the bones.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she let the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks soothe her. The air smelled of seaweed and damp sand, the mixture so particular to a beach in the autumn.

She thought back on her childhood self, who had emotionally bonded herself to the little boy she had saved in the water. Repeating silently, over and over, that they’d find each other again, someday; in the vain hope that he was truly alive and it wasn’t just a lie her uncle had made up to make her feel better. As it turned out, her instinct had been right.

They were bonded. She had found him again.

The sound of a small crack behind her made her turn her head sharply, her eyes opening at once. She had not expected to see anyone here at all.

“Oh, Sarah,” she relaxed at the sight and smiled softly. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Sarah answered, returning the smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know you were out here.”

“It’s all right,” Claire moved slightly aside to leave space on the rock. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out here, either. I thought everyone was still asleep.”

“You and me both,” Sarah grinned. “Staying in a warm bed is very tempting, but I needed to clear my head from this atrocious hungover.”

“I need to stop drinking so much,” she added, sitting down on the rock.

The evening was blurry in Claire’s head, but she didn’t recall Sarah drinking that much. Or perhaps she did and didn’t touch the coke? She couldn’t quite remember precisely.

“Bad influence from the boys,” Claire said softly, turning her eyes to the sea again.

“We all work so hard, it’s good to unwind from time to time,” Sarah leaned on her hands, looking briefly at Claire. Her feet were dangling from the rock, swinging back and forth.

“You know, I hope Elise didn’t cause any trouble between you and Lennox…I know how she can be, we all do, but you don’t have to fash your pretty little head about it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” Claire answered, blowing onto her hands to warm them. Elise used to be a prime worry, and yet now…she couldn’t care less about some washed-out starlet waiting for her turn to star on Celebrity Big Brother.

— she had far more pressing issues to sort out, none of which she could confide in Sarah. She was friendly, yes, but she was still one of the gang. One of Lennox’s best friends.

“Good,” Sarah patted her arm in a friendly gesture and smiled once more. “I didn’t want the ring incident to distress you or anythin’.”

Claire sometimes forgot that Sarah was Scottish too. Her accent only came in hints, from time to time. The rest of the time, she sounded as posh as Claire.

“To tell you the truth, Sarah,” Claire looked at her. “I didn’t really like that ring to begin with. I’m not going to pretend I’m all too sad that I don’t have it anymore. I simply wish Elise hadn’t caused a scene but I guess she enjoys the drama.”

The other woman seemed to be taken aback by this; which was understandable, given the venomous way Claire had delivered it. Nevertheless, she nodded in agreement with her last statement, “She’s an actress, after all. She likes to be the centre of attention.”

“Right,” Claire mumbled, burying her nose in her scarf once more.

“Lennox loves you very much, ye know? If he had any interest in Elise, I don’t think he’d be with you at all. Until he met you, he couldn’t pronounce the word marriage without gagging. Now, look at him.”

“I know he does,” she smiled softly, thinking back on their moments together last night before…well, before it all came tumbling down.

“What do you say if we go back inside? I’m starting to freeze a wee bit and I’m craving a warm coffee,” Sarah got up, offering her hand.

Nodding, Claire returned the smile and got up in turn. She grabbed her hand and made her way down the rock.

**********

“Your hair is really nice like that. I didn’t know you had curls,” Sarah said, pouring more coffee into Claire’s cup.

They were sitting at the dining table, the house still rather quiet and the logs crackling in the fireplace, warming them from their walk to and from the beach.

Claire had seen Jamie only once this morning, right after coming back. They exchanged polite greetings and smiles, unable to talk in front of Sarah. He told them that breakfast was ready and waiting for them.

Breakfast was a table full of delicious food. From fresh waffles to fruit, to various cereals and milks to pick from. There was tea, coffee, and a couple of different juices. Claire decided on coffee and buttered crumpets.

“I usually spend way too much time straightening my curls, actually. I didn’t want to do that this weekend. With all the rain, it isn’t really worth it.”

“It suits you,” Sarah smiled and took a bite of fruit.

“It’s a bit of a bird nest,” Claire touched her curls absently and smiled, remembering the one time she had found a flower in them. She was six, and she never discovered where it had come from.

“Mine doesn’t have any volume, so I’m rather jealous,” Sarah nudged her and grinned. “Do you know what type of hair you’ll have for the wedding?”

— the wedding. The thought sank deep into Claire’s stomach.

“No, not really,” she took a bite of the crumpet. “We’ve only just gotten engaged, so I haven’t started thinking about the day, really. I’ve never been someone who’s had it planned since childhood.”

“Have you set a date yet?”

Claire shook her head, already tired of the wedding-themed questions. Especially since there would be no fucking wedding.

“Are you all right, Claire?” Sarah asked, her tone careful and actually sounding worried. “You know you can talk to me if there’s anything.”

“I’m just tired, Sarah,” she said and managed to smile. “Honestly.”

“All right,” she squeezed her hand and smiled back. Her look seemed to say something along the lines of, I know we can be a lot. I’m sorry for their behaviour.

“Good morning!” Alasdair burst into the room with a grin. He was still in pyjamas, the last hair on his head sticking up, screaming for attention.

Licking his lips, he sat down at the table, “This looks appetising.”

“And the food doesn’t look bad either,” he winked at them and Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Good morning, wanker,” she smirked, throwing a piece of bread at him. “You look like hell.”

“I feel it, too,” he leaned back in his chair, taking a bite of half a croissant. “I can’t drink like I used to. We’re gettin’ old.”

Claire shoved another piece of crumpet in her mouth to stay quiet. Alasdair always sickened her, but this morning the feeling was slightly stronger than usual.

Before either Sarah or Alasdair could continue their conversation, Tommy had walked into the room as well with a sleepy smile on his face.

“Mornin’.”

“Hello,” Sarah and Alasdair answered, his friends smiling widely at him, while Claire hid inside her mug. She wanted to scream at them all, but she couldn’t do anything. She had promised Jamie she wouldn’t say anything.

“I’m starvin’,” he said, licking his lips. He stood behind Claire as he observed the food on the table. He rested his hands on her shoulders for a brief moment, squeezing them before going to sit down next to Alasdair.

Claire bit the inside of her cheeks and tried to avoid his eyes. He was watching her, his eyes inquisitive as to why she seemed so angry and closed off; or at least, more than usual. She was uncomfortable, a shiver running down his spine.

Then Lennox arrived and she wished for the floor to swallow her whole so she’d disappear. He was freshly showered and dressed casually, in dark denim and a striped shirt. His curls were still damp and there was something odd about his demeanour. He wasn’t completely relaxed.

“Golden boy has risen,” Alasdair smirked, blowing Lennox a kiss.

“Good mornin’ to ye too,” Lennox flipped him the bird and smirked.

“There ye are, poppy,” he stopped by Claire and leaned down to capture her lips.

Claire turned her head at the last second and he was met with her temple. He kissed it gently, trying not to show how taken aback by this he was. He squeezed her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Last night was lovely.”

She gave him a smile and took a sip of coffee, letting it burn her gullet. Looking at him, she could see more of the man she had met two years ago. All she could see was the boy on the beach, laughing loudly as he kicked Jamie down, running away to leave him to sink in the depths of the sea. She thought she knew Lennox, but turns out she had been wrong.

_— so fucking wrong._

“What’s planned for the day?” Sarah turned to look at Lennox, “I don’t think it’ll rain too much.”

Shrugging, he sat down and poured himself some coffee, “We can do what you all want. I can ask that lad if he’s got any idea of things we could do.”

“His name is Jamie,” Claire spit out, making every head turn to look at her. Sarah didn’t say anything, Alasdair grinned, and Tommy and Lennox were both visibly taken aback by her tone.

“Someone has a crush,” Alasdair chuckled, raising his glass of juice. “He is hot, I give ye that. Seems to be a fair good kisser too.”

“Shut it, mate,” Lennox hit his chest with the back of his hand.

“Are ye jealous, Lenny?” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Alasdair?” Claire looked at him.

“Aye?” He turned, the smirk still intact.

“Shut the fuck up,” she said simply, before taking the last sip of her drink.

Silence descended upon the room. It was thick and uncomfortable, and no one dared say a word. Not even Lennox, who usually jumped to the defence of his friends. He seemed shocked at the words that had come out of her mouth.

Long seconds had passed before someone dared to say or do anything; until Sarah finally gathered the courage and cleared her throat.

“So, uh…I wonder where Elise is? Surely she’d be awake by now.”

“I heard her leave her room this mornin’,” Tommy said, finishing his cereal. “I didn’t hear her come back, though. I knocked on the door to tell her I was goin’ downstairs, but when she didn’t answer I figured she was probably already down here.”

Sarah frowned, “We were out this morning and we didn’t see her.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Lennox interjected at once. He seemed on edge, and Claire wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with how rude she had just been to his friend. Then, she remembered that he hadn’t been in the room when she came back last night. She remembered the dirty wellies by the door. She looked at him, her eyes silently begging him to look at her to ease whatever worry she had.

She counted to ten. Then to thirty. Then to fifty. But Lennox never looked up to meet her eyes.

“I’ll go and look for her,” Sarah got up and stretched her arms.

“I’ll go get dressed,” Alasdair got up in turn and burped. He was the first to leave the room.

“Do ye want us to come wi’ ye?” Tommy looked at Sarah. Lennox didn’t seem to want to go anywhere, but it seemed his friend hadn’t given him much of a choice.

“Yes please,” she nodded, “You know, she might have gone out and fallen asleep on the beach or something. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Indeed not,” Tommy tried not to laugh and got up. He pulled Lennox by the arm, “Come on, Lenny.”

“Are you comin’ with us?” Sarah looked at Claire, eyes inquisitive.

“I think I’ll stay here and clean up, in case she comes back,” Claire answered diplomatically, avoiding looking at her fiancé.

“She’s probably just asleep,” Lennox mumbled, chewing on some bread as he got up.

“We’ll go check her room before we head out,” Sarah said, walking towards the hall. “Come on, let’s go.”

Tommy followed closely and Lennox stood for a moment, looking at Claire.

“When you get back, we’ll need to talk,” she said simply as she finally brought herself to look at him. He seemed so unlike himself that she wondered if he had maybe consumed any more coke this morning.

Lennox took a step towards her, his eyes narrowed as he wondered why she wanted to talk. Or pretended to. “Are you all right, poppy?”

Claire didn’t answer, crossing her arms. If she could pour out every single thing she wanted to tell him, she would. She would say all the things until he’d get sick from hearing the truths of what sort of monster he is. Yes, she knew he was a monster. A broken mess. She was to the point where she wanted to physically hurt him, too.

“Claire?” he frowned, cupping her cheeks.

She winced slightly from his touch. He noticed, tightening his grip, “We’ll talk, Claire. I don’t know what anyone told ye, but we’ll talk.”

With that, he left the room with a trail of questions behind him. His words resonated over and over again. She couldn’t comprehend.

Sarah hadn’t said anything to her. Neither had Tommy or Alasdair.

What on earth was he talking about?

She sat down, her heart in her throat. The headache had worsened throughout this morning, and the feeling of sickness was growing by the minute. There was now something else that Lennox wasn’t telling her about and it didn’t include Jamie, she was sure of that.

Something caught her eye — a glimmer on the floor.

Getting up again, she walked towards it and kneeled down. She immediately realised that it was a piece of jewellery. A familiar one, at that.

In the palm of her hand laid a silver bracelet, the very same one her parents had bought her when she was born — her name and her birth date engraved on it.

It was the bracelet she had lost in Edinburgh, and it had fallen out of the pocket of someone who had been around the breakfast table only moments ago. Or, at least, in this very room yesterday. The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks, and the last bit of her sanity was slowly peeling away.

— no, this couldn’t be possible.

Not here.

With shaky fingers, Claire slid the bracelet into her pocket and managed to stand up. Her legs felt like they were about to snap. She’d fall, and she wouldn’t be able to get back up. She wouldn’t be able to run away.

She leaned against the table and closed her eyes. Panic was creeping dangerously close.

— too close.

For how long she stayed like this, she didn’t know. It could have been minutes. It could have been an hour.

“Claire!” Sarah burst into the room, out of breath.

“Claire, you have to come out,” she managed to say. “It’s Elise —”

Frowning, Claire barely understood what she was saying. She didn’t care, either. She simply wanted to scream her need to be left alone.

“What?” she responded instead.

Sarah swallowed, trying to come up with the words once more, “It’s Elise,” she repeated, clearly distressed.

“She’s dead."


	13. Castle of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys might not believe this but I finally have some answers for you! Thank you so much for reading and although I've loved your theories, I'm glad to finally reveal a couple of things. 
> 
> Be well xx

Claire stood at the top of the hill, her arms wrapped around herself like an invisible shield from the cold. She was looking down, careful so as not to be too close to the edge.

She was a crime writer. To research her stories, she often visited morgues and studied records of various murders and other deadly accidents. She was somehow immune to the lifeless form of a body, to the sight of blood and death.

Until the dead body in question was one of someone she knew. Of someone she loathed.

Elise’s body laid on the sand, her limbs stretched in an impossible position — like a doll that had been thrown onto the floor. From where Claire stood, it was difficult to see, but the other woman’s eyes were opened wide, like she was surprised. Elise’s skin was a blueish colour, with purple undertones around her neck. The way her legs and arms laid indicated a couple, if not many, broken bones.

— the silence on the hill was deafening.

The wind blew and the rain fell hard, but both seemed like pointless details right now. No one was speaking a word. No one knew what to say, what to do. It was a dreadful sight; a hazy vision, almost.

Alasdair stood frozen, his eyes focused on the body.

Sarah wasn’t looking anymore. She had her head down and her eyes closed, as if she was trying to get rid of a nightmare. She was distressed at the sight of her friend, that much was clear.

Tommy stood the closest to her, his arm wrapped around her in reassurance. He was shaking, both from the cold and the shock it seemed.

Jamie was there too, given he owned the place and he had been alerted immediately of what had happened. He paced further away from the group, on the phone with the local authorities. Claire couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it seemed that rationality was a trait he possessed.

Then, there was Lennox.

He was looking at Elise, his face reflecting the wheels in his head turning and turning. There was sadness in his eyes, as plain as day. But there was something else, too. Fear? Helplessness? He was distressed as well — they all were, but he tried his best to not let it show too much. He was very close to breaking down, but he wasn’t allowing himself to do so.

Her heart broke at the sight. She never liked Elise, but she had been Lennox’s closest friend for so many years. He had lost an important person in his life, Claire could understand how much it hurt. However, she couldn’t help but think once more about his muddy boots by the door this morning, and his absence in bed when she came back during the night.

The wheels turned and turned in her own head, the headache creeping behind her eyelids.

“Maybe she slipped?” Alasdair said softly, unconvinced. His words interrupted Claire’s thoughts, shattering them.

“I doubt she slipped, Al,” Sarah looked at him, her voice a faint whisper.

“It’s verra windy, she could have,” he added, trying to reassure himself more than anything else.

It was obvious that she had not slipped, not from the way she had landed and the presence of the faint ring of purple around her graceful white neck.

“We can’t leave her like this,” Tommy interjected, his arms protectively wrapped against Sarah, whose face was now buried in the crook of his neck. He looked at Claire briefly before turning his attention back to Alasdair.

“We can’t touch her or move the body,” Claire finally said, all heads turning to look at her at once. “Not until the police get here.”

“It was most likely an accident,” Alasdair said again, running his hand over his bald head. “We can’t leave her like this, outside and in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was pouring now, and the body couldn’t stay like this for hours until the police finally arrived. On the other hand, nobody could touch a thing; and with the wind, a cover over her wouldn’t last very long.

“Claire is right, we can’t touch anything before the police arrive, rain or not,” Sarah said, shadowing her words.

“When are they going to be here?” Lennox finally spoke, turning around to look at Jamie who had finished his phone call.

“They’re tryin’ to figure it out, because wi’ the weather, crossing over on a boat is too risky. They’ll have to wait for it to calm down. They promised me they will do it as fast as possible.”

“I’ll ask Angus to go down and parameter the place, try to make a shield for the wind or somethin’.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” Sarah looked at him and managed to smile.

“Who was the last person that saw Elise?” Alasdair asked, looking around.

— nobody answered.

“She went to bed after me last night, and I heard her come out early this morning, but that’s about it,” Tommy finally said. “Like I told you all at the breakfast table.”

“I didn’t notice her walking out of the house this mornin’,” Jamie added. “I was at the reception desk from 8 am on, and I didn’t move until ye came to fetch me, so I would have seen anybody come in or out.”

“Lennox, you’ve been out,” Claire heard herself say, turning to look at him.

“I haven’t, no,” he answered calmly, crossing his arms.

“When I woke up this morning, you were in the shower and your boots were freshly muddied.” Her eyebrow raised in question. The wind had subdued, it seemed, and her words were heard clearly by everyone.

“I went downstairs for a drink during the night, and when I returned to the room you weren’t there, either,” she added, her words having the effect of a small but effective bomb. Tommy and Sarah shared a look. Alasdair was frowning.

“Did you see Elise?” The other man asked Lennox. “Come on, mate, ye have to tell us.”

“Ye went downstairs for a drink, uh?” Lennox looked at Claire, his lip flicking up into a mockish grin. “Took ye quite a while to get a drink, if you ask me, poppy.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Claire took a step forward, her arms crossed. Her anger with him had been simmering since they stepped foot onto the island. Now, it had come dangerously to spilling over.

“You went out during the night, you went out this mornin’, and nobody saw ye —”

“She was wi’ me last night,” Jamie stepped in, looking down at Lennox. From the way her fiancé’s face fell, it seemed that this was not the information he was expecting.

“I’m sorry, what?” He frowned, looking from Jamie to Claire and back again. His jaw was tender, his teeth clenched.

Alasdair stepped in between the two men, “Look, we should all go back inside. There’s no point in staying outside in this weather. We can’t do anything until the police arrive. They’ll have questions for all of us, I’m sure, no need to start without them.”

“Yes, let’s go back inside,” Sarah nodded, pulling on her coat.

Lennox glanced down at Elise’s body for a brief moment but ignored Claire. He was the first to make his way towards the house again, quickly followed by Tommy and Alasdair.

Sarah touched her arm and gave her a small reassuring smile before following the boys.

Claire shut her eyes for a moment, taking a long breath. She counted to ten. Then to thirty. Then to fifty. If one person was about to go down for Elise’s accident, she was sure it would be her. No one in that group would denounce one of their own. Not even Lennox. Not after what Jamie had just said.

“Claire,” Jamie said softly, touching her hand.

“I didn’t do it,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes were still closed. She felt his hand enveloping hers, warmth engulfing it.

“Do ye think that of all the people on this island, I’d believe ye were the one who hurt her?” he asked gently, pulling her to him.

She shook her head, her forehead resting against his chest. “No, I don’t, but they probably do.”

Slowly, Jamie lifted her chin to make her look at him, “What they think is the last thing ye should worry about, Claire. As long as I’m wi’ ye, nothin’ will happen to ye, do ye understand me?”

Claire managed to nod, not turning her face to look down at the beach. She couldn’t bear to see Elise once more. She took a step back from Jamie. A step away from the edge, and cleared her throat. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Go back inside, aye? I’ll take care of the rest.” Jamie kissed her forehead. The simple gesture made her realise that only in his presence had she felt safe since…well, since Edinburgh.

Looking up, she nodded and cupped his cheeks. For a moment, the idea of jumping into the freezing water with him was rather tempting. Just the two of them, surrounded by infinity. Together, without no one else to disturb them. To watch them. She pulled his face down gently and brushed her lips against his.

“Go in, _m’aingeal_ ,” he whispered against her lips.

“What does that mean?” she asked, frowning.

“I’ll tell ye sometime,” his lip flicked up at that and he kissed her knuckles. “Now go.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she kept one of her hands on his cheek for a moment and gathered the courage to go back into the house.

The few minutes it took her felt like an eternity stretching in front of her, the front door receding away further with each step she took towards it. When she finally stepped through the door, the place was quiet.

Only Sarah sat on the stairs and looked up at her.

“Hey,” she smiled softly.

“Are you all right?” she asked, getting up.

“Are you?” Claire asked in turn. After all, she had just lost one of her best friends. “I’m sorry about what happened to Elise.”

“It doesn’t feel quite real,” Sarah said in a low voice, her eyes sweeping the floor. “She was always so full of life and colour, and now…” her words faded. She closed her eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said again, sincerely. She hugged Sarah gently, seeing she might be needing one.

“We were outside, we should have heard something…unless it all happened before,” Sarah whispered, holding onto her — clinging, almost.

“Sarah, you need to go lay down, yes?” Claire looked at her, smiling softly. “There’s no use in walking around the place until the police arrive, and there is nothing else we can do but help once they get here.”

“You’re right,” the other woman cleared her throat and pulled herself together, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. “I’ll go lay down in my room. Will you call me when they arrive?”

“Of course I will,” Claire assured her, touching her arm. “I think I’ll go lay down for a minute too. Perhaps you might have some aspirin for me? I’ve had a headache since I woke up, and I’m afraid it’s not going to improve anytime soon.”

“Yeah, come on up,” Sarah motioned for her to follow her, and she did. Both of them walked close together towards her bedroom and then inside. It was smaller than the one Claire shared with Lennox, but the pieces of furniture were similar. The windows opened up onto the other side of the island, the sea like a painting in the background.

Claire noticed how neat and tidy the room was compared to her own, where her clothes laid about everywhere, along with some books she had brought and she hadn’t had time to open once. She waited by the door, looking at her fiancé’s friend.

“I’m not sure I have aspirin, but I might have some paracetamol if that’s alright?” Sarah asked, walking into her en-suite bathroom.

“Yeah,” Claire answered, half-listening. She was looking around again, trying to find any trinket or possession that could tell her more about Sarah. After all, the two women didn’t know each other very well, if at all. She was the friendliest of the bunch, but she had always guarded herself around Claire. As if a barrier was built around her, so Claire wouldn’t get too close.

The book on the bedside table caught her eyes; not only because it was, in fact, a book, but also because it was one of Claire’s. A first edition she knew by heart and would never forget. No one forgets the first book they ever published.

She smiled at the sight and walked over to it, picking it up. It was in pristine condition, almost like new. It had been published a few years ago, precisely one year after she had left Edinburgh and everything related to it behind her. Writing that book had been like a sort of therapy. An exorcism, really. Putting the words to paper about what had happened to her. Taking ownership of her own story, bending it and moulding it the way she wanted it to go had been a tremendous help; and it had become a launching pad into the literary world as the fresh, new, and promising talent.

She had no idea Sarah was one of her readers.

“I had aspirin, after all!” Sarah walked out of the bathroom and stopped, looking at her.

“I didn’t know you were reading this,” Claire held up the copy of Castle of Glass, smiling. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Well, I haven’t made it very far,” she explained quickly, smiling in turn. “But great writing.”

Sarah’s demeanour had completely changed. She was stiff, tense, holding onto the pillbox too tightly.

“Here,” she said, handing Claire the aspirin.

“Thanks,” Claire put the book down and took it. She watched Sarah, “You know, I can sign it for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” Sarah frowned, taken aback.

“I’m just kidding,” Claire smiled, trying to reassure her. “Can you imagine if I was going around asking people if they wanted me to sign my books?”

“Oh,” Sarah managed a little laugh, “Well, I hope the aspirin helps a little bit.”

“Thanks Sarah,” Claire took this as her cue and made her way towards the door, but her eyes caught something else. The remnants of her engagement ring were on top of the chest of drawers, hidden behind, what seemed to be, a makeup bag.

Approaching, Claire’s frown deepened. She remembered herself putting it on the sink counter in their bathroom…then she remembered how it wasn’t there anymore, and how she had forgotten to ask Lennox if he had moved it. It was the ring, all right. Shattered and with Lennox’s name engraved inside.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, turning to look at Sarah. “Did you come into our room when we weren’t there?”

“Elise took it and I saw it,” Sarah was quick to explain. “I was going to put it back, but with everything that’s happened, I forgot and —”

“Elise took it and it somehow has ended up on your dresser?” Claire’s eyebrows raised. “You think I’m going to believe that?”

“Claire…no, I don’t —”

“Did you or did you not take the ring from my bathroom, Sarah?” Claire asked again, looking at the other woman. It was only then that she remembered the bracelet. The cold metal pressing against her leg in her pocket. Slowly, with shaky hands, she took it out of her pocket and held it in front of Sarah.

“Did you take this too?” She didn’t recognize her voice, then. It had a mixture of anger, fear, and complete disbelief.

— it couldn’t be.

“I was going to give it back to you too,” Sarah whispered, her breathing starting to hiss. “I promise you, Claire. I never meant to take it. You lost it that day, and…and I took it, and I was going to — to give it back, I swear to you.”

“I lost this bracelet years ago at university,” Claire bit the inside of her cheek. “How the fuck did you get it, Sarah?”

“That was you, wasn’t it?” She continued before Sarah had time to answer. “All those years, that was you terrorizing me, stealing stuff from me, sending me notes. All those goddamn years since Edinburgh.”

Sarah stayed silent for a long moment, stuck in place. She wasn’t looking directly at Claire, her eyes instead focused behind her on the wall. Her knuckles were white from the way she was clutching her hands. She shook, breathing fast, tears strolling down her cheeks.

“I only did it to protect you,” she whispered, taking a breath. “To protect you, Claire…I never meant to scare you. I never wanted to scare you.”

For so many years, Claire had imagined what a meeting with her stalker would have looked like. Most times, the nightmarish scenario kept her up at night. Other times, she would imagine what kind of cathartic speech she would give; all the unspoken things she wanted to tell him. Except it wasn’t a him at all — it was Sarah. The fun and smiling Sarah, who had been nice to her. Kind, even. She wasn’t threatening at all. She wasn’t the monster Claire had made up in her mind.

“I only wanted you to be happy Claire,” she breathed out, sitting down on the bed. Her eyes were vacant, blank. Deprived of any emotion, save perhaps the shock of being discovered.

“Only happy,” she repeated, rocking herself back and forth, her facade crumbling more with each passing second.

“I never meant to do it, I swear,” she kept saying. Over and over again. “I only wanted to protect you.”

Claire approached slowly, tentatively. This wasn’t someone who would hurt her, she was sure of that. Quite the contrary, it seemed.

“You deserve to be happy, Claire,” she wiped a tear, still rocking herself. “Elise was going to ruin that, I heard it this morning. I had to do something.”

“I just had to,” she clenched her teeth saying that.

“What did you have to do, Sarah?” Claire spoke in a gentle voice, as if she was talking to a terrified child. She somehow wasn’t afraid anymore. Instead, her heart only broke for the woman sitting in front of her. So frail and so paralysed by fear.

— What on earth had she done?

“Talk to me,” she said gently, kneeling down in front of her.

“Tell me.”

“She wanted to steal Lennox away from you…I couldn’t let her do that,” Sarah shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. If she took Lennox away from you, she would like taking you away from me.”

“I couldn’t let her do that,” she repeated, sounding like a small child. “No, I couldn’t.”

“Sarah,” Claire said gently, reaching to take her hand. Her own had stopped shaking. She counted to ten. Then to thirty. Then to fifty.

Sarah finally looked at her. Her big green eyes shiny from tears and full of fears. Her hand holding tight onto hers.

“I pushed her.”


	14. diary entry - 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Sarah to explain herself! 
> 
> Thank you so reading and be well xx

_I know what you’re thinking._

_You’re thinking I’m crazy. Well, no. I’m not crazy. I’m just in love and when I love, I tend to get a little bit obsessed. We’ve established that already._

_The minute I saw Claire holding my copy of Castle of Glass, I knew the moment to reveal myself had come. I couldn’t keep lying to her. Not after what happened with Elise this morning._

_I thought I could carry the guilt around, buried it deep inside. I knew no one would suspect me — you surely didn’t, did you? And I knew my distress would have been associated with the grief I had over of my best friends dying._

_Truth is, I never wanted to hurt anybody but I don’t feel sorry for what I did._

_I had no choice when it came to Elise; she was the main threat to Claire’s happiness, and my own, by the same occasion. I had suspected it for a little while, I only had confirmation when I heard her speak with Lennox this morning._

_When I went back to my room last night, I found that I couldn’t sleep. I went downstairs in search of a drink and saw Claire sneak back upstairs quickly. She came from the kitchen so I reckoned she had been hungry or thirsty, too. Then, I saw Jamie walk out in turn. He seemed…a bit shaken. I brushed it off and went back to my room without any drink but I couldn’t sleep._

_I stayed awake until the first rays of gloom light snuck through the curtains of my room. Questions about Claire and Jamie swirled in my mind, over and over again. I could tell they were both attracted to one another; I wasn’t blind. I also was sure that Claire would never hurt Lennox in any capacity; which eased my worry about her attraction to the red-haired Scot._

_Restless and tired of staying in bed, I got dressed and decided to head for an early morning walk. I don’t recall the time, it must have been seven to seven thirty. My mind was foggy, my eyelids heavy and my head ached._

_It wasn’t until I made it to the cliff that I heard noises. Whispers of voices, agitated. I could hear them, I could see them._

_Elise and Lennox were perched together, having, what seemed like, an argument. At first, I couldn’t really pick up on what they were saying but I could see the anger on his face and the desperation on hers._

_“I can’t fucking believe ye switched the ring for a fake one,” he clenched his jaw, turning around not to look at her._

_“I trusted ye, Elise.”_

_“She doesn’t even like the ring,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She hates every single gift you give her, Len. Are you actually aware of that?”_

_“But that’s none of yer business,” he looked at her again. “Don’t ye get that? I love Claire, no matter what ye say or think about her. That is no’ going to change.”_

_“You love her, uh?” Her eyebrow rose. She was smiling now, a wicked little smile._

_“Did you love her when you fucked me in New York? When was that…eight months into your relationship, if I’m not mistaken.”_

_“Or when you were so drunk I had to get you home and you refused to let me sleep anywhere but next to you. Not that we did much sleeping that night,” she spat out._

_“Those were mistakes!” He moved past her, shoving his hands into his pockets to refrain from touching her._

_“I haven’t laid my eyes or my hands on ye since then and I dinna think about doing it again.”_

_“Yeah,” she chuckled, turning to look at him but not moving._

_“You might not, but your fiancée has been thinking about that estate manager more than she’s been thinking about you this weekend. Are you that blind, Len?”_

_“Come on,” she walked over to him slowly. “We’ve all seen the way they look at one another and that kiss…” she let her sentence die, biting her bottom lip._

_“Oh, that kiss was something.”_

_“I’m goin’ to tell her about what happened in New York,” he said softly, swallowing harshly._

_“I’m goin’ to tell her everythin’ and if by God she decides to forgive me, I’ll be a lucky man.”_

_“I don’t know her very well but I’m pretty certain she wouldn’t go that far. She’s going to ditch you and run away with that lad without a second thought about you, Lennox.”_

_“You know,” she continued, a better actress than I had ever seen her. “I never understood how it worked between you two. Perhaps her time in Oxford is far more productive than just writing whatever crap she writes. She doesn’t love you the way I do and you never saw that.”_

_“It was always about Claire. How beautiful Claire is. How smart Claire is. How successful. And I had to sit there and listen to your ramblings about your future wife. I had to help you pick up an engagement ring and not one second did you think it was fair. Neither towards me or towards her.”_

_“You know how much she dislikes me but still, you asked for my opinion.”_

_“Obviously that was a mistake, aye. Keep that ring, I dinna fucking care what you do wi’ it Elise. You pretend ye love me but I’m not too sure that’s right.”_

_“Of course I love you,” her voice cracked, the anger dissipating to leave space for pain. “I’ve loved you since we were kids but you never saw it. No, I was just Elise, the sister you never had.”_

_“Unless you needed comfort or someone to remind you that you were worth something. I was that until you met her and you ditched me back to that sister place.”_

_“I’ll never forgive you for hurting me like this, Lennox. And I’ll never be sorry for ruining your relationship with Claire like this, I thought I would be but no.”_

_“Ye’re sick,” he shook his head and rubbed his face. He was exasperated._

_“For once in your life something won’t turn out the way you’ve expected, my darling,” she walked closer to him, the wind blowing her hair._

_I watched as they both stood there, fuming and staring at one another. I thought Lennox would push her, I really did. I saw the way his fingers twitched. The way his eyes had turned completely black with anger. He could just push her off and get rid of her. He wouldn’t have to say one word to anybody._

_She would have slipped._

_— end of the story._

_But Lennox did not push her, no._

_Much to his credit, I saw the way he calmed himself down and straightened his shoulders. What she wanted was to provoke him and he didn’t give her the satisfaction. He was done doing that._

_“I’ll tell Claire everythin’ and no matter what, I dinna want to see yer fuckin’ face ever again.”_

_“Lennox…” she called after him, her voice growing faint. Things had not exactly turned out the way she had expected. No, for once, Lennox stood up for Claire and I was proud of him._

_Proud but nonetheless angry._

_For so long, I had suspected something happening between them. It wasn’t a secret they had slept together a few times in all the years we had known one another but I truly thought it had ended after Claire appeared._

_I was wrong._

_I needed to tell Lennox to keep quiet and not to hurt Claire. She didn’t deserve to be in pain._

_Yes, I should have turned around and gone after him but I didn’t._

_All I did was walk towards Elise, who was now crying. Frozen in place at the top of the hill. I could tell she was cold from the way she was hugging herself._

_When she looked up and saw me, her expression softened and she relaxed. She smiled softly, her eyes red and her cheeks damp from tears, “Oh, it’s you.”_

_“I thought I was alone,” she sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve._

_“I heard you and Lennox,” I answered, as calmly as possible._

_“Oh,” she repeated, looking at me._

_“_ _How much of it?”_

_“Quite a bit, Elise.”_

_“Well,” she shrugged and turned around to look at the sea. Her eyes stared at the horizon for a long time, while I waited for her to proceed. I waited for her to plead her case, to profess how sorry she felt. If she had, she would probably be alive now._

_But she didn’t. No._

_“He never deserved that bitch,” she finally said, her smile flicking into a smile._

_“And he might hate me now but in time, he’ll come back to his senses. He’ll forget about her and come back crawling to me. He always has.”_

_I stayed very still._

_Quiet._

_My hands were gripping my coat, my knuckles white. I tried to calm myself, I tried to take a step back, then another, then another, to go back to the house but my feet did not move._

_I don’t know exactly what made my last bit of sanity crack like a weak branch under one’s feet. I guess it was bound to happen at some point._

_Since childhood, I had it in me. It was there, simmering slowly, waiting to finally erupt. I used to be scared of that side of me. Scared it would hurt people I love. Scared it would hurt me. For so long, I tried to tame it, to put it aside and ignore it. But one can’t ignore things forever._

_That’s what I realised this morning. I couldn’t run away from it anymore._

_I had to protect Claire from hurting, that’s all I had to do._

_“What?” Elise looked at me with raised eyebrows._

_“Are you going to give me a long speech too? I thought you hated the bitch just as much as me. You never fooled anyone with your fake kindness towards her, Sarah.”_

_Then, she laughed. Her high pitched little laugh of hers that I grew to hate so much._

_I gripped her coat and I saw the way her face changed._

_“What the hell?!” she tried to push me away but she couldn’t. Even as a child I always had more strength than her. It hadn’t changed._

_“Take your hands off me,” she shoved me and I receded back, still holding onto her coat._

_I don’t recall much of what happened then, I didn’t even notice how close to the edge we both were. I gripped her throat for a moment. A long moment where I saw the fear taking residence in her eyes. Then, I shoved her back hard and she fell backwards, slipping away._

_She landed at the bottom of the cliff, her face buried into the sand and never got up again._

_I stood there and looked at her lifeless body for what felt like long minutes. Then I decided to go down to the beach and I stayed there, hidden behind the rocks, until I heard footsteps._

_The familiar ones of Claire._

_You know the rest, I don’t need to recall that part._

_Now that Claire knows everything, I feel somehow lighter._

_She didn’t seem as mad as I thought she would be. She seemed…relieved, at least at the stalker part, not the Elise one._

_Of course, she was shocked at first but when she realised I wasn’t some creepy man wanting to hurt her, she eased up._

_She stayed really quiet when I explained everything to her, the truth flooding out of me so easily. Years of secrets kept buried inside slipping away; bringing peace to my mind. I never wanted to lie to her, even less frighten her the way I did._

_She knows about Elise and Lennox, too. I couldn’t keep that from her knowing I was going to end up in jail, anyway. Far from her._

_The police are meant to arrive any moment now, I will confess to everything as I did to Claire moments ago. I have nothing left to lose._

_We’re all sitting in the living room._

_Tommy, Alasdair and Lennox on one side of the room. The latter is looking cautiously at Claire who’s standing by the window, her eyes glued to the sea. They will have to talk at some point and I won’t be here to hear whatever they’ll say._

_Jamie is here too. He is also looking at her. Somehow I’m eased to know someone is willing to look after her and protect her if I’m not here. He’s a good man, better than Lennox, that much is clear._

_What will happen to me? I don’t know, but I can guess. Whatever it is, I’m prepared._

_What will happen to Claire?_

_That’s not for me to decide. You’ll just have to keep reading to find out._


	15. Blank Page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, folks, the last chapter! I can't begin to thank you all for reading this story and being so invested in it. It was different than everything I ever have written so I'm really happy to know you guys enjoyed it. I hope this last chapter won't be the exception. 
> 
> Enjoy and be well x

Claire stood by the accordion windows, her eyes fixed onto the horizon and her fingers wrapped around an untouched glass of whisky. The liquid swirled around like the thoughts in her mind. The last two days had felt like an eternity; from arriving on the island to now, with everything that happened in between.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the burn of exhaustion subdued behind her eyelids. It was late, she couldn’t sleep, and all she wanted was for the boat to come pick her up and take her away from here. Take her back to Oxford. Home. She’d leave everything behind and start fresh; start anew.

_No more fears._

_No more anxiety._

Now that she knew Sarah had been the one stalking her for all those years, she could relax. It was over. She would never have to look over her shoulder as she walked home. She would never have to be afraid to pick up the phone when it rang at odd hours — or when it rang at all. No more little gifts, no more letters.

— just peace and quiet.

But years would never erase the way she had felt. She’d feel better, but she’d never forget. One can’t just internally erase this sort of thing.

Nor will she forget the guilt she felt towards Elise’s murder.

A knock at the door shattered the quietness of the room. Before that, the only sounds were the ones of the wind and the waves outside. Soothing sounds that should have been able to put her to sleep.

“Go away, Lennox,” she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Please.”

Claire heard the door open and took a long breath. She had been able to avoid him for most of the day — the police keeping everyone fairly busy before taking Sarah, who had confessed everything again, away. They couldn’t leave until the morning, and she had decided to stay in the room and not see anybody.

Lennox had tried to come and talk to her three times; but each time, she had sent him off. She knew she’d have to face him at some point, but she wanted to push it off as much as possible.

“I said, ‘go away’,” she turned at once to look at him but was met with a quite different sight. A far more pleasant one — though she didn’t want to admit it to herself just yet.

“Tis no’ Lennox,” Jamie said softly, standing at the door. “‘Tis me.”

“Oh,” she blinked and relaxed at once, her body’s natural reaction to the red-haired Scot.

“Sorry, I thought…” she let her sentence die and managed a soft smile.

“Dinna fash, I dinna mean to bother ye, but I noticed the lights were on so I thought ye might need something before bed.”

“Milk wi’ cinnamon?” He held up a tray, smiling in turn. “And a few cookies. Homemade, I might add.”

“I can’t say no to that,” she put her glass down and walked over to him. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Ye dinna need to thank me,” the Scot placed the tray onto the small coffee table by the fireplace.

“There are two cups,” she remarked, looking at him. The lights were dimmed, but she could see the faint blushing of his cheeks.

“Aye well, my Da always told me no’ to let someone drink alone, might it be alcohol or milk.”

“But I can go, I dinna want to bother ye,” he added hastily.

“Come join me,” she smiled and sat by the fireplace before picking up one of the mugs.

“How are ye feelin’?” he asked, sitting down in turn. His question hung in the air for a little while as she gathered the words to describe the plethora of feelings she had been experiencing since the morning.

“I feel…” she paused, warming her palms against the mug. “I don’t really know, actually. I’ve never been really good at voicing whatever is going on in my head.”

“I feel awfully sorry for what happened here, Jamie, I just hope you know that,” she looked at him, but her eyes couldn’t fully meet his. “This place doesn’t deserve any of the mayhem that we’ve brought along.”

“Claire,” he said softly, lifting her chin to make her look at him. There was a tenderness in his voice, a gentleness to his touch. Her heart squeezed suddenly at the thought of leaving this place behind. Leaving this man behind.

“What happened this weekend is no’ yer fault…none of it. I ken all too well the type of people they are, they bring the mayhem, no’ ye. Dinna blame yerself for what happened.”

“Well, it happened because of me. Sarah killed Elise because of me, you heard what she said. All of it.”

“Aye, I did, and ‘tis why I’m sayin’ ‘tis not yer fault.” He stroked her cheek slowly, his touch warm and comforting.

“Ye never asked for Sarah to fixate on ye and follow ye everywhere. Ye couldn’t know that yer meeting wi’ Lennox was set up, or know about everythin’ that followed. Elise died because of the type of person she was and because Sarah is mentally unstable. Ye have to let go of those burdens, Claire. They’re no’ yers to carry.”

“Sarah will get the help she needs and ye will start fresh.”

Nodding, she took a sip of milk, tasting the cinnamon on her lips, “I need to put this all behind me, and it’s going to take a little while, but I’ll get there.”

“Aye, ye will,” he smiled in reassurance and handed her a cookie. “If anythin’, I’m glad I could see ye again, Claire. I never had the chance to say thank ye for savin’ my life.”

“You would have done the same for me,” she took the cookie and smiled. “Actually, you probably have. God knows what would have happened to me if I hadn’t come here.”

“When I saw yer and Lennox’s names on the reservation email, I was sure it was to mean somethin’ and I’m glad I didna turn it down. I wanted to see for myself what he had become, what ye had become; but deep down, I was sure there was somethin’ more than that.”

“You know,” she took a piece of cookie and leaned back. “When I first saw the island, I got scared and I thought it was because of the place, but it wasn’t at all. I was just scared of the idea of being here with Lennox and his friends.”

“I have absolutely nothing in common with them, you were right,” she admitted, looking at the fire again.

“Neither did Lennox and I, and I always knew it. I just stayed with him because I felt like we both needed something that was like home. An illusion of something we were both craving, I guess.”

“Ye canna blame yerself for wantin’ to be loved, Claire. Or wanting to love in return. We all crave it, no matter if we admit it or no’.”

Claire stayed silent and simply took his hand. He gave her a squeeze in understanding, his palm enveloping her fingers. The warmth of the fireplace reflected on them, feeling as comforting as his skin against hers. After a moment, her body gravitated towards his and her head rested against his shoulder, the only sounds in the room being the fire and their synchronised heartbeats.

“I’ve thought about you a lot,” she finally said, her words beginning to fill up the silence. “I always wondered what had happened to you, and I hoped you were all right.”

“I’ve thought about ye just the same, promisin’ myself I’d find ye to thank ye,” he smiled, squeezing her hand again. “Thinkin’ about the first wee kiss ye gave me all those years ago.”

“It was on your cheek,” she chuckled softly.

“Aye, but I still remember it,” he looked at her and smiled, wiping some milk away from her upper lip.

“I should let ye rest,” he added quickly as if he remembered he wasn’t supposed to get too close. “It’s late.”

Claire nodded and cleared her throat, “Right.”

She looked as Jamie got up and gathered the empty mugs on the tray. He left the plate of cookies on the table. Once near the door, he turned to her again, “Have a good night, Sassenach.”

“Jamie, wait,” she got up and walked over to him.

“Aye?” He watched her, his brows drew together in a slight frown.

Claire cupped his cheeks and gently sealed their lips together. His body tensed for a moment, surprised by her sudden move, but he relaxed almost immediately, letting go of the tray to wrap his arms around her. The milk spilt over the carpet, the mugs laid at their feet but neither seemed to mind.

He held her against him, his soft hands pressing into her back as their lips overlapped. First slowly, before their kiss deepened. It was different from the other times they had kissed that weekend. It wasn’t some coping mechanism anymore. It was simply comfort.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she begrudgingly broke the kiss.

“Do ye really want me to, Claire?” His forehead rested against her, his hand cupping her cheek.

“I do,” she took his hand and pulled him onto the bed. Somehow, the idea of sleeping alone was unbearable to her, knowing Jamie was under the same roof.

Jamie followed her, somehow relieved to not have to leave her again, and together they climbed into bed.

Claire spooned him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head in the nuzzle of his neck and closing her eyes. Near him, she felt at peace. His smell of woodfire and musk was bottled into a feeling of safety.

“Claire?” he whispered, his hand stroking her forearm. “What are ye goin’ to do now?”

“I don’t know,” she answered sincerely.

The thought of her future had barely crossed her mind. She knew she had to face it, at some point, and things would fall into place, like they always did. Or at least, she hoped.

“I’ll write a book,” she added, snuggling closer to him. “That’s all I know how to do.”

“Will I be in it?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice, which only made her smile in turn.

“Do you want to be in it?”

“Only if ye think I’m worth bein’ part of yer story,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her bare ring finger.

“You are,” she whispered into his ear, holding him closer.

**********

When Claire woke up that morning, she was alone in bed, knowing that Jamie had to get up before her to prepare for the day. After all, he was still the owner and manager of this place. He still had guests to attend to.

She took a moment before getting up, laying on her back and staring at the ceiling. She could still smell him on the sheets and only gripped the duvet tighter.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the outline of her opened suitcase, with her things neatly folded inside, just waiting for her to close it.

— to close it and to leave.

— to go back home to Oxford.

After a while, she finally managed to get out of bed and took a long shower. For the first time in many years, she was no longer uneasy. She didn’t check if she had locked the door to the bathroom, instead, keeping her eyes closed under the warm water for longer than she usually would have. Just enjoying the quietness of her surroundings and the warmth of the water sliding onto her porcelain skin.

Little by little, the layers she had carefully put around herself were peeling away, revealing the woman she used to be before Edinburgh.

That shower felt like absolution, a rebirth.

She stood there for a while, the outlines of her future beginning to form in her mind.

It was only when she made her way downstairs, dressed and ready, and she saw Lennox, that the things she had been thinking since arriving here two days ago confirmed their validity to her.

He stood there, looking at her with his dark eyes. His demeanour had changed since yesterday, as he stood like a shameful boy waiting to explain himself.

Though, explain he had. Telling her what had happened between him and Elise, apologising over and over again. She had disappeared into her new room before he had time to continue.

“Claire,” he said softly, walking over to her. The suitcases were in the hall and she could hear Tommy and Alasdair talking and smoking cigarettes outside, waiting for the boat.

Lennox was already in his coat and was holding hers. “I was about to come and see ye upstairs.”

“No need,” she answered, looking at him.

“The boat will be here in ten minutes,” he added, trying to meet her eyes. “Can we talk? Just a minute?”

Nodding, she crossed her arms and waited for him to proceed. She had nothing to tell him, all she could do was listen some more.

“Are ye coming home wi’ me?” His voice was so low, she barely heard the question. He once more looked like a little boy, but this time his eyes were wide with hope. She could see the faint lines of the boy he used to be — the same one she had seen on the beach that morning. The little boy she had hated so much.

“No,” she said simply. “Home has never been in London with you. My house is in Oxford, anyway.”

“But we said we’d move in together for good after this trip, and I ken ‘tis has not been the trip we both imagined and I am truly sorry,” he pleaded gently. “I ken we have issues to work through, and ye have to forgive me for what happened, but…”

He took his hand, his skin cold, “I want to work through this, poppy. I want to be a better man for you, I want you to make me one.”

“I can’t make you anything, Len,” she took her hand away.

“I thought it could work, I tried to believe in it and convince myself I didn’t see the cracks, but they were there from the start. This weekend was only the last blow that made everything explode.”

Lennox clenched his jaw but nodded, “I can wait for ye, for as long as ye need me to. I could visit you in Oxford in a few weeks, perhaps, and we’ll see how to proceed?”

Claire shook her head. At that moment, Jamie entered the hall but stopped in his tracks, watching them.

“I won’t be in Oxford in a couple of weeks,” she said simply and looked at Jamie, who was smiling slightly. “I’m going to stay here a while. I have a book to write.”

“Dinna fash,” Jamie looked at Lennox and came to stand next to her, “I’ll look after her well.”

The fellow Scot looked at his ex-fiancée before his eyes landed on the red-haired man once more. Something passed through his eyes, like a realisation.

“‘Tis a shame ye’re leaving wi’out having the chance for a wee swim in the sea,” Jamie added, crossing his arms. “When the weather permits it, ‘tis glorious.”

Lennox bit the inside of his cheek, she could tell from the movements. He didn’t say anything, instead only handing Claire her coat.

“The boat will arrive soon, we better head down.”

“Goodbye, Lennox,” she said as she watched him make his way outside with the suitcases.

Her own laid at the top of the stairs, packed and ready for a trip home. Only that home wasn’t really in Oxford after all.

“Are ye all right?” Jamie looked at her, taking her hand.

She nodded and smiled, “More than all right, yes.”

“What do ye say about waffles for breakfast?” He leaned down to kiss her nose. “Josef is preparing them.”

“Sounds good to me,” she cupped his chin, “Do you know where I can sit to write after we’ve eaten?”

“How’s the library for ye?”

“Perfect.”

Jamie kissed her hand and held it close. They stood on the porch and glanced one last time out the door, where the other men were walking down towards the beach.

Together, they walked back inside the estate and shut the door on the past.

the end.


End file.
